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POEMS 


GEORGE    P.    MORRIS. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  WEIR  AND  DARLEY. 


ENGRAVED  BY  AMERICAN  ARTISTS. 


jFourt!)  liDition, 


NEW    YORK: 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER,   145  NASSAU   ST. 

MDCCCLIV. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853, 

By  CHARLES  SCKIBNEK, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and  for  the  Southern 
District  of  Now  York. 


STEREOTYPED    BY    C.    C.    SAVAfiF.  R.  CRAIGHEAD,  PRINTER  AND  STEREOTYPER, 

13  Ciiunlwra  Street,  N.  Y.  53  Vesey  Street,  N.  Y. 


PREFACE, 


AT  the  time  the  following  poems  were  written,  there 
was  no  intention  of  ever  collecting  them  in  the  present 
form.  Although,  as  anonymous  productions,  they  have 
attracted  much  attention,  the  author  deemed  them  of 
too  fleeting  a  nature  to  be  published  with  his  name. 
Various  reasons,  however,  which  it  is  unnecessary  to 
mention,  have  overruled  his  original  objections ;  and 
this  work  is  submitted  to  the  reader  in  the  hope  that, 
as  the  fragments  have  been  well  received,  they  will 
not  be  entirely  unacceptable  now  that  they  are  gathered 
into  a  volume. 

NEW-YORK,  1853. 


TO 


GEORGE   A  BERNE  THY, 


E  X  -  G  0  V  E  K  N  O  II    OF    0  K  E  G  O  X, 


ARE    AFFECTIONATELY    INSCRIBED, 


BV     HIS     I'HIKM), 


THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS, 


THE  DESERTED  BRIDE PAGE  17 

THE  MAIN-TRUCK ;   OR,  A  LEAP  FOR  LIFE 21 

POETRY 24 

THE  CROTON  ODE 25 

FRAGMENT  OF  AN  INDIAN  POEM 29 

LAND-HO! , 33 

WOODMAN,  SPARE  THAT  TREE 35 

THE  COTTAGER'S  WELCOME 37 

LAND  OF  WASHINGTON 39 

THE  FLAG  OF  OUR  UNION 41 

LINES  AFTER  THE  MANNER  OF  THE  OLDEN  TIME 43 

THE  DREAM  OF  LOVE 46 

I'M  WITH  YOU  ONCE  AGAIN 49 

OH,  WOULD  THAT  SHE  WERE  HERE 51 

THE  SWORD  AND  THE  STAFF 53 

THE  CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER 55 

THY  WILL  BE  DONE 57 

LIFE  IN  THE  WEST 59 

SONG  OF  MARION'S  MEN 61 

J  ANET  McR  E A 63 

L1SETTE. .  ..  65 


CONTENTS. 


MY  MOTHER'S  BIBLE PAGE    07 

THE  DOG-STAR  RAGES 69 

LEGEND  OF  THE  MOHAWK 71 

THE  BALL-ROOM  BELLE 75 

WE  WERE  BOYS  TOGETHER 77 

OH,  BOATMAN,  HASTE 79 

FUNERAL  HYMN 81 

O'ER  THE  MOUNTAINS 83 

WOMAN 85 

ROSABEL 87 

THY  TYRANT  SWAY 90 

A  HERO  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 91 

RHYME  AND  REASON :   AN  APOLOGUE 93 

STARLIGHT  RECOLLECTIONS 95 

WEARIES  MY  LOVE  OF  MY  LETTERS? 97 

FARE  THEE  WELL,  LOVE 99 

THOU  HAST  WOVEN  THE  SPELL 100 

BESSIE  BELL 101 

THE  DAY  IS  NOW  DAWNING,  LOVE 103 

WHEN  OTHER  FRIENDS  ARE  ROUND  THEE 105 

SILENT  GRIEF 106 

LOVE  THEE,  DEAREST! 107 

A  SCENE  AT  SEA ]08 

I  LOVE  THE  NIGHT 109 

THE  MINIATURE * .  110 

THE  RETORT >  m 

LINES  ONAPOET 113 

THE  BACCHANAL ^  113 

TWENTY  YEARS  AGO ?   11S 

NATIONAL  ANTHEM _  ]]9 

I  LOVE  THEE  STILL m 


CONTEXTS. 


LOOK  FROM  THY  LATTICE,  LOVE PAGE  123 

SHE  LOVED  HIM 125 

THE  SUITORS 127 

ST.  AGNES'  SHRINE 129 

WESTERN  REFRAIN 131 

THE  PRAIRIE  ON  FIRE 183 

THE  EVERGREEN 136 

THE  MAY-QUEEN 137 

VENETIAN  SERENADE 139 

THE  WHIP-POOR-WILL 141 

THE  EXILE  TO  HIS  SISTER 146 

NEAR  THE  LAKE  WHERE  DROOPED  THE  WILLOW 147 

THE  PASTOR'S  DAUGHTER 149 

MARGARETTA 151 

THE  COLONEL 153 

THE  SWEEP'S  CAROL 155 

THE  SEASONS  OF  LOVE 157 

MY  WOODLAND  BRIDE 159 

OH,  THINK  OF  ME 160 

MY  BARK  IS  OUT  UPON  THE  SEA 1C1 

WILL  NOBODY  MARRY  ME? 163 

THE  STAR  OF  LOVE 165 

WELL-A-DAY 166 

NOT  MARRIED  YET 167 

LADY  OF  ENGLAND 169 

OH,  THIS  LOVE 171 

MARY 173 

THE  BEAM  OF  DEVOTION 175 

THE  WELCOME  AND  FAREWELL 176 

TIS  NOW  THE  PROMISED  HOUR 177 

THE  SONGS  OF  HOME..  .  179 


JO  CONTENTS. 

MASONIC  HYMN PAGE  181 

THE  DISMISSED 18S 

LORD  OF  THE  CASTLE 186 

THE  FALLEN  BRAVE 187 

SONG  OF  THE  TROUBADOUR 189 

CHAMPIONS  OF  LIBERTY 191 

THE  HUNTER'S  CAROL 194 

WASHINGTON'S  MONUMENT 195 

THE  SISTER'S  APPEAL 197 

SONG  OF  THE  REAPERS 193 

WALTER  GAY 199 

GROUNDS  FOR  DIVORCE 201 

TEMPERANCE  SONG 203 

BOAT-SONG 205 

WILLIE 207 

THE  ROCK  OF  THE  PILGRIMS 210 

YEARS  AGO 211 

THE  SOLDIER'S  WELCOME  HOME 213 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  YANKEE  DOODLE 215 

LINES  ON  THE  BURIAL  OF  MRS.  MARY  L.  WARD 219 

NEW-YORK  IN  1826 221 

THE  HERO'S  LEGACY 223 

WHAT  CAN  IT  MEAN? 229 

THE  STORY  OF  A  SONG 231 

WHERE  HUDSON'S  WAVE 233 

AU  REVOIR 235 

EPIGRAMS 236 

EPITAPH 236 

ADDRESS  FOR  THE  BENEFIT  OF  WILLIAM  DUNLAP 237 

ADDRESS  FOR  THE  BENEFIT  OF  J.  SHERIDAN  KNOWLES  ...  240 
ADDRESS  FOR  THE  BENEFIT  OF  HENRY  PLACIDE  . .  , .  243 


CONTEXTS.  11 


THE  MAID  OF  SAXOXY :  OR,  WHO 'S  THE  TRAITOR  ?  . . .  PAGE  247 

HO !  HAXS !  —  WHY,  HAXS ! 251 

REJOICE  !  REJOICE !  WE  'RE  SAFE  AXD  SOUND 252 

THE  LIFE  FOR  ME  IS  A  SOLDIER'S  LIFE 258 

CONFUSION  1  AGAIN  REJECTED! 262 

WHEN  I  BEHOLD  THAT  LOWERING  BROW 264 

'TIS  A  SOLDIER'S  RIGID  DUTY 267 

THE  SPRING-TIME  OF  LOVE  IS  BOTH  HAPPY  AXD  GAY  269 

FROM  MY  FATE  THERE'S  XO  RETREATIXG 275 

LADS  AXD  LASSES  TRIP  AWAY 276 

ALL  HAIL  THE  KING! 285 

HOME 287 

SKY,  STREAM,  MOORLAND  AND  MOUNTAIN 297 

DARED  THESE  LIPS  MY  SAD  STORY  IMPART 300 

FIERY  MARS,  THY  VOTARY  HEAR 306 

AH  1  LOVE  IS  NOT  A  GARDEN-FLOWER 307 

THE  KING,  THE  PRINCES  OF  THE  COURT 808 

VICTORIA!  VICTORIA! 311 

THIS  GLOOMY  CELL  IS  MY  ABODE  AT  LAST 317 

HARK !  T  IS  THE  DEEP-TONED  MIDNIGHT  BELL 319 

ONCE,  MILD  AND  GENTLE  WAS  MY  HEART 823 

THE  GENTLE  BIRD  ON  YONDER  SPRAY 826 

THAT  LAW'S  THE  PERFECTION  OF  REASON 334 

WITH  MERCY  LET  JUSTICE 836 

WHAT  OUTRAGE  MORE?  — AT  WHOSE  COMMAND 338 

THE  JAVELIN  FROM  AN  UNSEEN  HAND 345 

REJOICE !  OUR  LOYAL  HEARTS  WE  BRING 346 

OUR  HEARTS  ARE  BOUNDING  WITH  DELIGHT 850 

NOTES 353 

THE  DESERTED  BRIDE 853 

THE  CROTON  ODE  . .  .  353 


12  CONTEXTS. 

NOTES  (CONTINUED) PAGE  353 

WOODMAN,  SPARE  THAT  TREE , 353 

THE  CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER 355 

SONG  OF  MARION'S  MEN 357 

JANET  McREA 357 

THE  DOG-STAR  RAGES 360 

THE  PRAIRIE  ON  FIRE 361 

THE  SWEEP'S  CAROL 361 

THE  FALLEN  BRAVE  OF  MEXICO    361 

THE  CHAMPIONS  OF  LIBERTY 362 

THE  SOLDIER'S  WELCOME  HOME 362 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  YANKEE  DOODLE 362 

NEW-YORK  IN  1826 S62 

THE  MAID  OF  SAXONY ,.  865 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS, 

DESIGNED  BY  WEIR. 


WOODMAN,  SPARE  THAT  TREE! 

ENGRAVED  BY  ALFRED  JONES.  (Te  face  Title., 

"Woodman,  spare  that  tree ! 

Touch  not  a  single  bough  3 
In  youth  it  sheltered  me, 
And  I'll  protect  it  now, 
T  was  my  forefather's  hand 

That  placed  it  near  his  cot; 
There,  woodman,  let  it  stand, 
Thy  axe  shall  harm  it  not !" 

Woodman,  spare  that  Tree,  p.  35. 

LISETTE. 

ENGRAVED  BY  CHARLES  HURT.  (Titlcpage.) 

"On  bridal  day,  her  lips  did  say, 
'Love,  honour  and  obey!'" 

Lisette,  p.  66. 

PORTRAIT  OF  THE   AUTHOR. 

ENGRAVED  BY  CHARLES  BURT,  FROM  A  PAINTING  BY  HENRY  INMAN. 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

THE   CROTON  ODE. 

ENGRAVED  BY  ALFRED  JONES. 

"Safety  dwells  in  her  dominions, 

Health  and  Beauty  with  her  move, 
And  entwine  their  circling  pinions 
In  a  sisterhood  of  love." 

The  Croton  Ode,  p.  27 

THE  CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER. 

ENGRAVED  BY  ALFRED  JONES. 

"Tis  ever  thus,  when,  in  life's  storm, 

Hope's  star  to  man  grows  dim, 
An  angel  kneels  in  woman's  form, 
And  breathes  a  prayer  for  him." 

The  Chieftain's  Daughter,  p.  66. 

THE  DOG-STAR  RAGES. 

ENGRAVED  BY  ALFRED  JONES. 

"  Had  I  a  yacht,  like  Miller, 

That  skimmer  of  the  seas — 
A  wheel  rigged  on  a  tiller, 

And  a  fresh  gunwale  breeze, 
A  crew  of  friends  well  chosen, 

And  all  a-taunto,  I 
Would  sail  for  regions  frozen  — 

I'd  rather  freeze  than  fry  !" 

The  Dog-Star  Rages,  p.  72. 

WHEN  OTHER  FRIENDS. 

ENGRAVED  BY  ALFRED  JONES. 

"When  other  friends  are  round  thee, 
And  other  hearts  are  thine  — 

When  other  Friends,  p.  105. 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS.  15 

THE   PRAIRIE   ON   FIRE. 

ENGRAVED  BY  CHARLES  BURT. 

"Thick  darkness  shrouded  earth  and  sky — 

"When  on  the  whispering  winds  there  came 
The  Teton's  shrill  and  thrilling  cry, 

And  heaven  was  pierced  with  shafts  of  flame  1 
The  sun  seemed  rising  through  the  haze, 

But  with  an  aspect  dread  and  dire: 
The  very  air  appeared  to  blaze!  — 
O  God !   the  Prairie  was  on  fire!" 

The  Prairie  on  Fire,  p.  183. 

'TIS   NOW   THE   PROMISED   HOUR. 

ENGRAVED  BY  ALFRED  JONES. 

"Then,  lady,  wake  —  in  beauty  rise  1 

'Tis  now  the  promised  hour, 

Wlum  torches  kindle  in  the  skies 

To  light  thee  to  thy  bower." 

'Tis  now  the  Promised  Hour,  p.  177. 

ROCK  OF  THE  PILGRIMS. 

ENGRAVED  BY  ALFRED  JONES. 

"The  Pilgrims  of  old  an  example  have  given 

Of  mild  resignation,  devotion  and  love, 
Which  beams  like  the  star  in  the  blue  vault  of  heaven, 
A  beacon-light  swung  in  their  mansion  above." 

The  Rock  of  the  Pilgrims,  p.  210. 

*  The  Mayflower  having  arrived  in  the  harbour  from  Cnpe  Cod,  Mary  Chilton  entered 
the  first  landing-bout,  and  looking  forward,  exclaimed.  '  I  will  be  the  first  to  step  on  that 
rock.'  Accordingly,  when  the  boat  approached,  Mary  Chilton  was  permitted  to  be  the 
first  from  that  boat  who  appeared  on  the  rock,  and  thus  her  claim  was  established." 

Thacher's  "  History  of  Plymouth,"  p.  30. 


16  LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


THE   MAID   OF   SAXONY. 


DESIGNS  BY  DARLEY. 


FREDERICK  THE   GREAT. 

ENGRAVED  BY  CHARLES  BURT. 

"What  have  we  here  ?" 

Act  I. — Scene  IV.,  p.  281. 

SOPHIA  MANSFIELD. 

ENGRAVED  BY  CHARLES  BURT. 

Act  II.  —  Scene  /,  p.  286. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

ENGRAVED  BY  CHARLES  BURT. 

"Silence  in  the  court!" 

Act  III  — Scene  IV.,  p.  337. 


POEMS. 


THE   DESEETED   BRIDE. 

SUGGESTED   BY    A   SCENE    IX    THE    PLAY    OF   TILE    HUNCHBACK. 

IXSCEIDED   TO   JAMES   SHERIDAN    KNOWLES. 
I. 

"  LOVE  me ! — No.  — He  never  loved  me !" 

Else  he'd  sooner  die  than  stain 
One  so  fond  as  he  has  proved  me 

"With  the  hollow  world's  disdain. 
False  one,  go  —  my  doom  is  spoken, 
And  the  spell  that  bound  me  broken ! 

n. 
Wed  him !  — Never. — He  has  lost  me !  — 

Tears !  —"Well,  let  them  flow ! — His  bride  ? 
No. — The  struggle  life  may  cost  me ! 

But  he  '11  find  that  I  have  pride ! 
Love  is  not  an  idle  flower, 
Blooms  and  dies  the  self-same  hour. 


18  THE    DESERTED    BRIDE. 

III. 
Title,  land  and  broad  dominion, 

With  himself  to  me  he  gave ; 
Stooped  to  earth  his  spirit's  pinion, 

And  became  my  willing  slave  ! 
Knelt  and  prayed  until  he  won  me  — 
Looks  he  coldly  now  upon  me? 

IV. 

Ingrate !  —  Never  sure  was  maiden 
Deeply  wronged  as  I.     With  grief 

My  true  breast  is  overladen  — 
Tears  afford  me  no  relief — 

Every  nerve  is  strained  and  aching, 

And  my  very  heart  is  breaking ! 

v. 

Love  I  him? — Tims  scorned  and  slighted - 
Thrown,  like  worthless  weed,  apart — 

Hopes  and  feelings  seared  and  blighted  — 
Love  him? — Ye&r  with  all  my  heart! 

With  a  passion  superhuman  — 

Constancy,  "  thy  name  is  woman." 

VI. 

Love,  nor  time,  nor  mood,  can  fashion- 
Love?— Idolatry 's  the  word 


THE    DESERTED    BRIDE.  19 

To  speak  the  broadest,  deepest  passion, 

Ever  woman's  heart  hath  stirred ! 
Vain  to  still  the  mind's  desires, 
Which  consume  like  hidden  fires ! 

VII. 

Wrecked  and  wretched,  lost  and  lonely, 
Crushed  by  grief's  oppressive  weight, 

With  a  prayer  for  Clifford  only, 
I  resign  me  to  my  fate. 

Chains  that  bind  the  soul  I've  proven 

Strong  as  they  were  iron-woven. 

VIII. 

Deep  the  wo  that  fast  is  sending 
From  my  cheek  its  healthful  bloom ; 

Sad  my  thoughts  as  willows  bending 
O'er  the  borders  of  the  tomb ! 

Without  Clifford,  not  a  blessing 

In  the  world  is  \vorth  possessing. 

IX. 

Wealth! — A  straw  within  the  balance, 
Opposed  to  love,  't  will  strike  the  beam : 

Kindred  —  friendship  —  beauty  —  talents  ?  — 
All  to  love  as  nothing  seem ; 

Weigh  love  against  all  else  together, 

As  solid  gold  against  a  feather. 


20  THE    DESERTED    B  HIDE. 

X. 

Hope  is  flown  ! — Away  disguises  — 
Naught  but  death  relief  can  give — • 

For  the  love  be  little  prizes- 
Cannot  cease,  and  Julia  live  ! 

Soon  my  thread  of  life  will  sever — 

Clifford,  fare  thee  well — for  everl 


THE    MAI  X-T  II  U  C  K. 


21 


THE  MAIN-TRUCK;  OR,  A  LEAP  FOP,  LIFE.* 


A   NAUTICAL    BALLAD. 


OLD  Ironsides  at  anchor  lay, 

In  the  harbour  of  Mahon  ; 
A  dead  calm  rested  on  the  bay  — 

The  waves  to  sleep  had  gone ; 
When  little  Jack,  the  captain's  son, 

With  gallant  hardihood, 
Climbed  shroud  and  spar — and  then  upon 

The  main-truck  rose  and  stood ! 


ii. 

A  shudder  ran  through  every  vein  — 

All  eyes  were  turned  on  high ! 
There  stood  the  boy,  with  dizzy  brain, 

Between  the  sea  and  sky ! 

*  Founded  upon  a  well-known  tale  from  the  pen  of  the  late  WILLIAM 
LEGGETT,  Esq. 


22  THE    MAIN-TRUCK. 

No  hold  luid  he  above  —  below, 

Alone  lie  stood  in  air ! 
At  that  fur  height  none  dared  to  go- 

No  aid  could  reach  him  there. 


m. 

We  gazed — but  not  a  man  could  speak ! 

"With  horror  all  aghast 
In  groups,  with  pallid  brow  and  cheek, 

We  watched  the  quivering  mast. 
The  atmosphere  grew  thick  and  hot, 

And  of  a  lurid  hue, 
As,  riveted  unto  the  spot, 

Stood  officers  and  crew. 


rv. 

The  father  came  on  deck !  —  He  gasped, 

"  O  God,  Thy  will  be  done !" 
Then  suddenly  a  rifle  grasped, 

And  aimed  it  at  his  son ! 
"  Jump,  far  out,  boy !  into  the  wave ! 

Jump,  or  I  fire  !"  he  said : 
"  That  only  chance  your  life  can  save ! 

Jump— jump,  boy!"  — He  obeyed. 


THE    MAIN-TRUCK.  23 

V. 

He  sunk —  lie  rose  —  he  lived — lie  moved  — 

He  for  the  ship  struck  out ! 
On  board  we  hailed  the  lad  beloved 

"With  many  a  manly  shout. 
His  father  drew,  in  silent  joy, 

Those  wet  arms  round  his  neck, 
Then  folded  to  his  heart  the  boy, 

And  fainted  on  the  deck ! 


21  P  0  E  T  R  Y. 


POETRY. 

I. 

To  me  the  world's  an  open  book 
Of  sweet  and  pleasant  poetry ; 

I  read  it  in  the  running  brook 
That  sings  its  way  toward  the  sea. 

It  whispers  in  the  leaves  of  trees, 
The  swelling  grain,  the  waving  grass, 

And  in  the  cool,  fresh  evening  breeze 

7  O 

That  crisps  the  wavelets  as  they  pass. 

ii. 
The  flowers  below,  the  stars  above, 

In  all  their  bloom  and  brightness  given, 
Are,  like  the  attributes  of  love, 

The  poetry  of  earth  and  heaven. 
Thus  Nature's  volume,  read  aright, 

Attunes  the  soul  to  minstrelsy, 
Tinging  life's  clouds  with  rosy  light, 

And  all  the  world  with  poetry. 


THE    C  R  0  T  0  X    0  D  E.  23 


THE   CEOTOX   ODE. 

WRITTEN    AT    THE    REQUEST    OF   THE    CORPORATION    OF    THE 
CITY    OF    NEW    YORK. 


GUSHING  from  this  living  fountain, 

Music  pours  a  falling  strain, 
As  the  goddess  of  the  mountain 

Comes  with  all  her  sparkling  train. 
From  her  grotto-springs  advancing, 

Glittering  in  her  feathery  spray, 
Woodland  fays  beside  her  dancing, 

She  pursues  her  winding  way. 

ir. 

Gently  o'er  the  rippling  water, 

In  her  coral-shallop  bright,. 
Glides  the  rock-king's  dove-eyed  daughter, 

Decked  in  robes  of  virgin  white. 


26  T  II  E    C  R  O  T  0  N    0  D  E. 

Nymphs  and  naiads,  sweetly  smiling, 
Urge  her  bark  with  pearly  hand, 

Merrily  the  sylph  beguiling 
From  the  nooks  of  fairy-land. 


in. 

Swimming  on  the  snow-curled  billow, 

See  the  river-spirits  fair 
Lay  their  cheeks,  as  on  a  pillow, 

With  the  foam-beads  in  their  hair 
Thus  attended,  hither  wending, 

Floats  the  lovely  oread  now, 
Eden's  arch  of  promise  bending 

Over  her  translucent  brow. 


rv. 

Hail  the  wanderer  from  a  far  land ! 

Bind  her  flowing  tresses  up ! 
Crown  her  with  a  fadeless  garland, 

And  with  crystal  brim  the  cup ; 
From  her  haunts  of  deep  seclusion, 

Let  Intemperance  greet  her  too, 
And  the  heat  of  his  delusion 

Sprinkle  with  this  mountain-dew. 


mjjmjjjjjt 


THE    C  II  0  T  0  X    O  D  E.  27 

V. 

"Water  leaps  as  if  delighted, 

While  her  conquered  foes  retire  ! 
Pale  Contagion  flies  affrighted 

"With  the  baffled  demon  Fire ! 
Safety  dwells  in  her  dominions, 

Health  and  Beauty  with  her  move, 
And  entwine  their  circling  pinions 

In  a  sisterhood  of  love. 


"Water  shouts  a  glad  hosanna ! 

Bubbles  up  the  earth  to  bless ! 
Cheers  it  like  the  precious  manna 

In  the  barren  wilderness. 
Here  we  wondering  gaze,  assembled 

Like  the  grateful  Hebrew  band, 
"When  the  hidden,  fountain  trembled. 

And  obeyed  the  prophet's  wand. 

TIT. 

Round  the  aqueducts  of  story, 
As  the  mists  of  Lethe  throng, 

Croton's  waves  in  all  their  glory 
Troop  in  melody  along. 


28  T  II  E    C  R  0  T  0  X    O  D  E. 

Ever  sparkling,  bright,  and  single, 
"Will  this  rock-ribbed  stream  appear, 

"When  posterity  shall  mingle 
Like  the  gathered  waters  here. 


FRAG  M  EXT  OF  AX  I  X  D  I  A  X  P  0  E  II.     29 


FRAGMENT  OF  AN  INDIAN  POEM, 


******* 


THEY  come! — Be  firm  —  in  silence  rally! 

The  long-knives  our  retreat  have  found ! 
Hark  !  —  their  tramp  is  in  the  valley, 

And  they  hem  the  forest  round ! 
The  burdened  boughs  with  pale  scouts  quiver, 

The  echoing  hills  tumultuous  ring, 
While  across  the  eddying  river 

Their  barks,  like  foaming  war-steeds,  spring ! 
The  bloodhounds  darken  land  and  water ; 
They  come  —  like  buffaloes  for  slaughter! 

n. 

See  their  glittering  files  advancing, 
See  upon  the  free  winds  dancing 

Pennon  proud  and  gaudy  plume: 


30  FRAGMENT    OF    AN    INDIAN    P  0  E  M. 

The  strangers  come  in  evil  hour, 
In  pomp,  and  panoply,  and  power, 
To  plant  a  weed  where  bloomed  a  flower, 
Where  sunshine  broke  to  spread  a  shower ; 
And,  while  upon  our  tribes  they  lower, 
Think  they  our  manly  hearts  will  cower 
To  meet  a  warrior's  doom  ? 

in. 

Eight  they  forget  while  strength  they  feel ; 
Our  blood  they  drain,  our  land  they  steal ; 
And  should  the  vanquished  Indian  kneel, 

They  spurn  him  from  their  sight ! 
Be  set  for  ever  in  disgrace 
The  glory  of  the  red-man's  race, 
If  from  the  foe  we  turn  our  face, 

Or  safety  seek  in  flight ! 

IV. 

They  come! — Up,  and  upon  them,  braves! 
Fight  for  your  altars  and  your  graves  ! 
Drive  back  the  stern,  invading  slaves, 

In  fight  till  now  victorious ! 
Like  lightning  from  storm-clouds  on  high, 
The  hnrtling,  death-winged  arrows  fly, 
And  wind-rows  of  pale  warriors  die !  — 


FRAGMENT    OF    A  X    I  X  D  I  A  X    TOE  M.  31 

Oil !  never  has  the  sun's  bright  eye 
Looked  from  his  hill-tops  in  the  sky 
Upon  a  field  so  glorious ! 

******** 

v. 

They're  gone  —  again  the  red-men  rally; 

With  dance  and  song  the  \voods  resound : 
The  hatchet's  buried  in  the  valley; 

No  foe  profanes  our  hunting-ground  ! 
The  green  leaves  on  the  blithe  boughs  quiver, 

The  verdant  hills  with  song-birds  ring, 
While  our  bark-canoes  the  river 

Skim  like  swallows  on  the  wing. 
Mirth  pervades  the  land  and  water, 
Free  from  famine,  sword  and  slaughter! 
******** 

VI. 

Let  us,  by  this  gentle  river, 
Blunt  the  axe  and  break  the  quiver, 
While,  as  leaves  upon  the  spray, 
Peaceful  flow  our  cares  away ! 
*     *     ****** 

TIL 

Yet,  alas !  the  hour  is  brief 
Left  for  either  joy  or  grief! 


32  FRAGMENT    OF    AX    INDIAN    POEM. 

All  on  earth  that  we  inherit 
From  the  hands  of  the  Great  Spirit — 
Wigwam,  hill,  plain,  lake  and  field  — 
To  the  white-man  must  we  yield ; 
For,  like  sun-down  on  the  waves, 
We  are  sinking  to  our  graves ! 

VIII. 

From  this  wilderness  of  wo 
Like  a  caravan  we  go, 
Leaving  all  our  groves  and  streams 
For  the  far-off  land  of  dreams. 
There  are  prairies  waving  high, 
Boundless  as  the  sheeted  sky, 
Where  our  fathers'  spirits  roam, 
And  the  red-man  has  a  home. 

IX. 

Let  tradition  tell  our  story 
As  we  fade  in  cloudless  glory, 
As  we  seek  the  land  of  rest 
Beyond  the  borders  of  the  west, 
No  eye  but  ours  may  look  upon  — 

WE    AUK   THE   CIIir.DREX   OF   THE    SUN  ! 

*     *     *     *     *     *     -:«•     * 


L  A  X  D  -  II  0 !  33 


LAND-IIO 


Up,  up  with  the  signal! — The  land  is  in  sight! 
We'll  be  happy,  if  never  again,  boys,  to-night! 
The  cold  cheerless  ocean  in  safety  we've  passed, 
And  the  warm  genial  earth  glads  our  vision  at  last. 
In  the  land  of  the  stranger  true  hearts  we  shall  find, 
To  soothe  us  in  absence  of  those  left  behind. 
Land !  — land-ho !  —  All  hearts  glow  with  joy  at  the  sight ! 
We'll  be  happy,  if  never  again,  boys,  to-night! 

n. 

The  signal  is  waving ! — Till  morn  we'll  remain, 
Then  part  in  the  hope  to  meet  one  day  again 
Round  the  hearth-stone  of  home  in  the  land  of  our  birth, 
The  holiest  spot  on  the  face  of  the  earth ! 
Dear  country !  our  thoughts  are  as  constant  to  thee 
As  the  steel  to  the  star,  or  the  stream  to  the  sea. 
Ho !  — land-ho !  — We  near  it !  — We  bound  at  the  sight  I 
Then  be  happy,  if  never  again,  boys,  to-night ! 


34  LAND-IIO! 


III. 

The  signal  is  answered! — The  foam-sparkles  rise 

Like  tears  from  the  fountain  of  joy  to  the  eyes ! 

May  rain-drops  that  fall  from  the  storm-clouds  of  care, 

Melt  away  in  the  sun-beaming  smiles  of  the  fair ! 

One  health,  as  chime  gayly  the  nautical  bells : 

To  woman — God  bless  her! — wherever  she  dwells! 

THE  PILOT'S  ON  BOARD!  —  and,  thank  Heaven,  all's  right! 

So  be  happy,  if  never  again,  boys,  to-night ! 


\V  O  0  D  M  A  X,    SPARE    THAT    TREE!  35 


WOODMAN,   SPARE   THAT  TREE 

i. 
WOODMAX,  spare  that  tree ! 

Touch  not  a  single  bough ! 
In  youth  it  sheltered  me, 

And  I  '11  protect  it  now. 
Twas  my  forefather's  hand 

That  placed  it  near  his  cot ; 
There,  woodman,  let  it  stand, 

Thy  axe  shall  harm  it  not  I 

n. 
That  old  familiar  tree, 

Whose  glory  and  renown 
Are  spread  o'er  land  and  sea — 

And  wouldst  thou  hew  it  down  ? 
Woodman,  forbear  thy  stroke ! 

Cut  not  its  earth-bound  ties ; 
Oh,  spare  that  aged  oak, 

Now  towering  to  the  skies  1 


36  WOODMAN,    SPARE    THAT    TREE! 

III. 
"When  but  an  idle  boy, 

I  sought  its  grateful  shade ; 
In  all  their  gushing  joy 

Here,  too,  my  sisters  played. 
My  mother  kissed  me  here ; 

My  father  pressed  my  hand  — 
Forgive  this  foolish  tear, 

But  let  that  old  oak  stand ! 

IV. 

My  heart-strings  round  thee  cling, 

Close  as  thy  bark,  old  friend ! 
Here  shall  the  wild-bird  sino-, 

O' 

And  still  thy  branches  bend. 
Old  tree !  the  storm  still  brave ! 

And,  woodman,  leave  the  spot ; 
While  I  've  a  hand  to  save, 

Thy  axe  shall  harm  it  not ! 


THE  COTTAGER'S  WELCOME.       37 


THE   COTTAGEE'S   WELCOME. 

i. 

HARD  by  I've  a  cottage  that  stands  near  the  wood- 

A  stream  glides  in  peace  at  the  door — 
"Where  all  who  will  tarry,  'tis  well  understood, 

Receive  hospitality's  store. 
To  cheer  that  the  brook  and  the  thicket  afford, 

The  stranger  we  ever  invite : 
You  're  welcome  to  freely  partake  at  the  board, 

And  afterward  rest  for  the  night. 

ii. 
The  birds  in  the  morning  will  sing  from  the  trees, 

And  herald  the  young  god  of  day ; 
Then,  with  him  uprising,  depart  if  you  please  — 

We'll  set  you  refreshed  on  the  way : 
Your  coin  for  our  service  we  sternly  reject; 

No  traffic  for  gain  we  pursue, 
And  all  the  reward  that  we  wish  or  expect, 

We  take  in  the  good  that  we  do. 


38  THE    COTTAGER'S    WELCOME. 

III. 
Mankind  are  all  pilgrims  on  life's  weary  road, 

And  many  would  wander  astray 
In  seeking  Eternity's  silent  abode, 

Did  Mercy  not  point  out  the  way ! 
If  all  would  their  duty  discharge  as  they  should 

To  those  who  are  friendless  and  poor, 
The  world  would  resemble  my  cot  near  the  wood, 

And  life  the  sweet  stream  at  my  door. 


THE    L  A  N  D    OF    W  A  S  II  I  N  G  T  0  X. 


THE   LAND   OF   WASHINGTON. 


I  GLORY  in  the  sages 

Who,  in  the  days  of  yore, 
In  combat  met  the  foemen, 

And  drove  them  from  our  shore ; 
Who  flung  our  banner's  starry  field 

In  triumph  to  the  breeze, 
And  spread  broad  maps  of  cities  where 

Once  waved  the  forest-trees. 
— Hurrah !  — 


n. 

I  glory  in  the  spirit 

Which  goaded  them  to  rise 
And  found  a  mighty  nation 

Beneath  the  western  skies. 


4:0  THE    LAND    OF    W  A  S  II  I  N  G  T  O  IST. 


No  clime  so  bright  and  beautiful 
As  that  where  sets  the  sun ; 

No  land  so  fertile,  fair,  and  free, 
As  that  of  Washington. 
—  Hurrah !  — 


THE    FLAG    OF    OUR    U  N  I  O  X.  41 


THE   FLAG   OF   OUR    UNION. 


"A  SONG  for  our  banner?" — The  watchword  recall 

Which  gave  the  Republic  her  station : 
"United  we  stand  —  divided  we  fall!"  — 

It  made  and  preserves  us  a  nation  ! 
The  union  of  lakes — the  union  of  lands  — 

The  union  of  states  none  can  sever  — 
The  union  of  hearts  —  the  union  of  hands — 

And  the  Flag  of  the  Union  for  ever 
And  ever ! 

The  Flag  of  our  Union  for  ever ! 

ii. 

What  God  in  His  mercy  and  wisdom  designed, 
And  armed  with  His  weapons  of  thunder, 

Not  all  the  earth's  despots  and  factions  combined 
Have  the  power  to  conquer  or  sunder ! 


42  THE   FLAG    OF   OUR   UNION. 

The  union  of  lakes  —  the  union  of  lands — 
The  union  of  states  none  can  sever  — 

The  union  of  hearts  —  the  union  of  hands— 
And  the  Flag  of  the  Union  for  ever 

And  ever! 
The  Flasc  of  our  Union  for  ever  t 


LIXES.  43 


LINES 

AFTEE   THE    MANNER   OF   THE    OLDEN    TIME. 
I. 

O  LOVE  !  the  mischief  thou  hast  done ! 

Thou  god  of  pleasure  and  of  pain !  — 
None  can  escape  thee — yes,  there's  one — • 

All  others  find  the  effort  vain : 
Thou  cause  of  all  my  smiles  and  tears ! 
Thou  blight  and  bloom  of  all  my  years ! 

n. 
Love  bathes  him  in  the  morning  dews 

Reclines  him  in  the  lily-bells, 
Reposes  in  the  rainbow  hues, 

And  sparkles  in  the  crystal  wells, 
Or  hies  him  to  the  coral-caves, 
Where  sea-nymphs  sport  beneath  the  waves. 

in. 

Love  vibrates  in  the  wind-harp's  tune — 
With  fays  and  oreads  lingers  he  — 


44  LINES. 

Gleams  in  th'  ring  of  the  watery  moon, 

Or  treads  the  pebbles  of  the  sea. 
Love  rules  "the  court,  the  camp,  the  grove"- 
Oh,  everywhere  we  meet  thee,  Love  ! 

IV. 

And  everywhere  he  welcome  finds, 
From  cottage-door  to  palace-porch — 

Love  enters  free  as  spicy  winds, 

"With  purple  wings  and  lighted  torch, 

With  tripping  feet  and  silvery  tongue, 

And  bow  and  darts  behind  him  slung. 

v. 

He  tinkles  in  the  shepherd's  bell 
The  village  maiden  leans  to  hear — • 

By  lattice  high  he  weaves  his  spell, 
For  lady  fair  and  cavalier : 

Like  sun-bursts  on  the  mountain  snow, 

Love's  genial  warmth  melts  high  and  low. 

VI. 

Then  why,  ye  nymphs  Arcadian,  why— 
Since  Love  is  general  as  the  air  — 

Why  does  he  not  to  Lelia  fly, 
And  soften  that  obdurate  fair? 


LINE  S.  45 

Scorn  nerves  her  proud,  disdainful  heart ! 
She  scoffs  at  Love  and  all  his  art ! 

vrr. 

Oh,  boy-god,  Love!  —  An  archer  thou? — 

Thy  utmost  skill  I  fain  would  test ; 
One  arrow  aim  at  Lelia  now, 

And  let  thy  target  be  her  breast ! 
Her  heart  bind  in  thy  captive  train, 
Or  give  me  back  my  own  again ! 


40  THE    DREAM    OF    LOVE. 


THE  DREAM   OF   LOVE. 

i. 

I'VE  had  the  heart-ache  many  times, 

At  the  mere  mention  of  a  name 
I've  never  woven  in  my  rhymes, 

Though  from  it  inspiration  came. 
It  is  in  truth  a  holy  thing, 

Life-cherished  from  the  world  apart  — 
A  dove  that  never  tries  its  wing, 

But  broods  and  nestles  in  the  heart. 

n. 
That  name  of  melody  recalls 

Her  gentle  look  and  winning  ways 
"Whose  portrait  hangs  on  Memory's  walls, 

In  the  fond  light  of  other  days. 
In.  the  dream-land  of  Poetry, 

Reclining  in  its  leafy  bowers, 
Her  bright  eyes  in  the  stars  I  see, 

And  her  sweet  semblance  in  the  flowers. 


T  II  !•:    D  R  E  A  M    O  F    L  0  V  E.  47 

in. 

Her  artless  dalliance  and  grace  — 

The  joy  that  lighted  up  her  brow  — 
The  sweet  expression  of  her  face  — 

Her  form  —  it  stands  before  me  now! 
And  I  can  fancy  that  I  hear 

The  woodland  songs  she  used  to  sing, 
Which  stole  to  my  attending  ear, 

Like  the  first  harbingers  of  spring. 


IT. 

The  beauty  of  the  earth  was  hers, 

And  hers  the  purity  of  heaven ; 
AJone,  of  all  her  worshippers, 

To  me  her  maiden  vows  were  given. 
They  little  know  the  human  heart, 

"Who  think  such  love  with  time  expires ; 
Once  kindled,  it  will  ne'er  depart, 

But  burn  through  life  with  all  its  fires. 


V 
v. 


"We  parted — doomed  no  more  to  meet — 
The  blow  fell  with  a  stunning  power — 

And  yet  my  pulse  will  strangely  beat 
At  the  remembrance  of  that  hour ! 


48  THE    D  HE  AM    OF    LOVE. 

But  time  and  change  their  healing  brought, 
And  years  have  passed  in  seeming  glee, 

But  still  alone  of  her  I  've  thought 
"Who  ?s  now  a  memory  to  me. 

VI. 

There  may  be  many  who  will  deem 

This  strain  a  wayward,  youthful  folly, 
To  be  derided  as  a  dream 

Born  of  the  poet's  melancholy. 
The  wealth  of  worlds,  if  it  were  mine, 

With  all  that  follows  in  its  train, 
I  would  with  gratitude  resign, 

To  dream  that  dream  of  love  again ! 


I  '  M    W  I  T  II    Y  0  U    ONCE    A  G  A  I  !ST.  49 


I'M   WITH   YOU   ONCE   AGAIN. 

i. 

I'M  with  you  once  again,  my  friends, 

No  more  my  footsteps  roam ; 
Where  it  began  my  journey  ends, 

Amid  the  scenes  of  home. 
No  other  clime  has  skies  so  blue, 

Or  streams  so  broad  and  clear, 
And  where  are  hearts  so  warm  and  true 

As  those  that  meet  me  here  ? 

n. 

Since  last,  with  spirits  wild  and  free, 

1  pressed  my  native  strand, 
I've  wandered  many  miles  at  sea, 

And  many  miles  on  land. 
I've  seen  fair  realms  of  the  earth 

By  rude  commotion  torn, 
Which  taught  me  how  to  prize  the  worth 

Of  that  where  I  was  born. 


50  I'M    W  ITII    YO  U    ON  CE    A  G  A  I  X. 

III. 

In  other  countries,  when  I  heard 

The  language  of  my  own, 
How  fondly  each  familiar  word 

Awoke  an  answering  tone ! 
But  when  our  woodland  songs  were  sung 

Upon  a  foreign  mart, 
The  vows  that  faltered  on  the  tongue 

With  rapture  thrilled  the  heart ! 

IV. 

My  native  land,  I  turn  to  you, 
With  blessing  and  with  prayer, 

Where  man  is  brave  and  woman  true, 
And  free  as  mountain  air. 

Long  may  our  flag  in  triumph  wave 
Against  the  world  combined, 

And  friends  a  welcome — foes  a  grave, 

O  / 

Within  our  borders  find. 


Oil,  WOULD  THAT  SHE  WERE  HER  El   51 


OH,   WOULD  THAT   SHE   WERE    HERE! 

i. 

OH,  would  that  she  were  here, 

These  hills  and  dales  among, 
Where  vocal  groves  are  gayly  mocked 

By  Echo's  airy  tongue : 
Where  jocund  Nature  smiles 

In  all  her  boon  attire, 
And  roams  the  deeply-tangled  wilds 

Of  hawthorn  and  sweet-brier. 
Oh,  would  that  she  were  — 

The  gentle  maid  I  sing, 
Whose  voice  is  cheerful  as  the  songs 

Of  forest-birds  in  spring ! 

n. 
Oh,  would  that  she  were  here, 

Where  the  free  waters  leap, 
Shouting  in  sportive  joyousness 

Adown  the  rocky  steep : 


52        Oil,    WOULD    THAT    SHE    WERE    HERE! 

Where  zephyrs  crisp  and  cool 

The  fountains  as  they  play, 
"With  health  upon  their  wings  of  light, 

And  gladness  in  their  way. 
Oh,  would  that  she  were  here, 

With  these  balm-breathing  trees, 
The  sylvan  daughters  of  the  sun, 

The  rain-cloud,  and  the  breeze ! 

in. 
Oh,  would  that  she  were  here, 

Where  glide  the  rosy  hours, 
Murin'ring  the  drowsy  hum  of  bees, 

And  fragrant  with  the  flowers : 
Where  Heaven's  redeeming  love 

Spans  earth  in  Mercy's  bow  — 
The  promise  of  the  world  above 

Unto  the  world  below. 
Oh,  would  that  she  were  here, 

Amid  these  shades  serene  — 
Oh,  for  the  spell  of  woman's  love, 

To  consecrate  the  scene  ! 


THE    S  W  O  11  D    A  X  D    T  II  E    STAFF.  53 


THE   SWORD    AXD   THE   STAFF. 

i. 
THE  sword  of  the  liero ! 

The  staff  of  the  sage ! 
Whose  valour  and  wisdom 

Are  stamped  on  the  age ! 
Time-hallowed  mementos 

Of  those  who  have  riven 
The  sceptre  from  tyrants, 

"  The  lightning  from  heaven  1" 

n. 
This  weapon,  O  Freedom ! 

Was  drawn  by  thy  son, 
And  it  never  was  sheathed 

Till  the  battle  was  won ! 
No  stain  of  dishonour 

Upon  it  we  see ! 
Twas  never  surrendered  — 

Except  to  the  free ! 


54;  THE    SWORD    AND    THE    STAFF. 

III. 
"While  Fame  claims  the  hero 

And  patriot  sage, 
Their  names  to  emblazon 

On  history's  page, 
No  holier  relics 

Will  Liberty  hoard 
Than  FRANKLIN'S  staff,  guarded 

By  WASHINGTON'S  sword. 


THE    CHIEFTAIN'S    DAUGHTER. 


THE   CHIEFTAIN'S   DAUGHTER, 

i. 

UPON  the  barren  sand 

A  single  captive  stood  ; 
Around  him  came,  with  bow  and  brand, 

The  red-men  of  the  wood. 
Like  him  of  old,  his  doom  he  hears, 

Rock-bound  on  ocean's  rim : 
The  chieftain's  daughter  knelt  in  tears, 

And  breathed  a  prayer  for  him. 

ii. 
Above  his  head  in  air 

The  savage  war-club  swung : 
The  frantic  girl,  in  wild  despair, 

Her  arms  about  him  flung. 
Then  shook  the  warriors  of  the  shade, 

Like  leaves  on  aspen-limb  — 
Subdued  by  that  heroic  maid 

Who  breathed  a  prayer  for  him. 


56  THE    CHIEFTAIN'S    DAUGHTER. 

III. 
"  Unbind  him  !"  gasped  the  chief — 

"  Obey  your  king's  decree !" 
He  kissed  away  her  tears  of  grief, 

And  set  the  captive  free. 
'Tis  ever  thus,  when,  in  life's  storm, 

Hope's  star  to  man  grows  dim, 
An  angel  kneels  in  woman's  form, 

And  breathes  a  prayer  for  him. 


THY    WILL    BE    DON  E.  57 


THY   WILL   BE   DONE. 

i. 

SEARCHER  of  Hearts! — from  mine  erase 
All  thoughts  that  should  not  be, 

And  in  its  deep  recesses  trace 
My  gratitude  to  Thee ! 

rr. 

Hearer  of  Prayer!  —  oh,  guide  aright 
Each  word  and  deed  of  mine ; 

Life's  battle  teach  me  how  to  fight, 
And  be  the  victory  Thine. 

in. 

Giver  of  All !  — for  every  good 

In  the  Redeemer  came  — 
For  raiment,  shelter  and  for  food, 

I  thank  Thee  in  His  name. 


58  T  II  Y    W  ILL    BE    DON  E. 

IV. 
Father  and  Son  and  Holy  Ghost ! 

Thou  glorious  Three  in  One  ! 
Thou  knowest  Lest  what  I  need  most, 

And  let  Thy  will  be  done. 


LIFE   IN   THE   WEST.  59 


LIFE   IN   THE   WEST. 


Ho!  brothers  —  come  liithcr  and  list  to  my  story — • 

Merry  and  brief  will  the  narrative  be : 
Here,  like  a  monarch,  I  reign  in  my  glory  — 

Master  am  I,  boys,  of  all  that  I  see ! 
Where  once  frowned  a  forest,  a  garden  is  smiling  — 

The  meadow  and  moorland  are  marshes  no  more ; 
And  there  curls  the  smoke  of  my  cottage,  beguiling 

The  children  who  cluster  like  grapes  round  my  door. 
Then  enter,  boys ;  cheerly,  boys,  enter  and  rest ; 
The  land  of  the  heart  is  the  land  of  the  West ! 
Oho,  boys ! — oho,  boys !  —  oho ! 

ii. 

Talk  not  of  the  town,  boys  —  give  me  the  broad  prairie, 
Where  man,  like  the  wind,  roams  impulsive  and  free ; 

Behold  how  its  beautiful  colours  all  vary, 

Like  those  of  the  clouds,  or  the  deep-rolling  sea ! 


60  LI  FE    I  N    Til  E    WEST. 

A  life  in  the  woods,  boys,  is  even  as  changing ; 

"With  proud  independence  we  season  our  cheer, 
And  those  who  the  world  are  for  happiness  ranging, 

"Won't  find  It  at  all  if  they  don't  find  it  here. 
Then  enter,  boys  ;  cheerly,  boys,  enter  and  rest ; 
I'll  show  you  the  life,  boys,  we  live  in  the  West! 
Oho,  boys !  —  oho,  boys !  — oho ! 


in. 


Here,  brothers,  secure  from  all  turmoil  and  danger, 

We  reap  what  we  sow,  for  the  soil  is  our  own ; 
"We  spread  hospitality's  board  for  the  stranger, 

And  care  not  a  jot  for  the  king  on  his  throne. 
We  never  know  want,  for  we  live  by  our  labour, 

And  in  it  contentment  and  happiness  find ; 
We  do  what  we  can  for  a  friend  or  a  neighbour, 

And  die,  boys,  in  peace  and  good-will  to  mankind. 
Then  enter,  boys ;  cheerly,  boys,  enter  and  rest ; 
You  know  how  we  live,  boys,  and  die  in  the  West ! 
Oho,  boys !  —  oho,  boys !  —  oho ! 


S  O  X  G    OF    31  A  P.  I  0  N  'S    M  E  N.  61 


SONG   OF   MAKION'S   MEN, 


IN  the  ranks  of  Marion's  band, 
Through  morass  and  wooded  land, 
Over  beach  of  yellow  sand, 

Mountain,  plain  and  valley, 
A  southern  maid,  in  all  her  pride, 
Marched  gayly  at  her  lover's  side, 
In  such  disguise 
That  e'en  his  eyes 
Did  not  discover  Sallie ! 

n. 

"When  returned  from  midnight  tramp, 
Through  the  forest  dark  and  damp, 
On  his  straw-couch  in  the  camp, 
In  his  dreams  he'd  dally 


62  BO  N  G   O  F  M  A  RI  O  N'S   M  E  N. 

"With  that  devoted,  gentle  fair, 

Whose  large  black  eyes  and  flowing  hair 

So  near  him  seem, 

That,  in  his  dream, 
He  breathes  his  love  for  Sallie ! 

m. 

Oh,  what  joy  that  maiden  knew, 
When  she  found  her  lover  true !  — 
Suddenly  the  trumpet  blew, 
Marion's  men  to  rally ! 
To  ward  the  death-spear  from  his  side 
In  battle  by  Santee  she  died !  — 
Where  sings  the  surge 
A  ceaseless  dirge 
Near  the  lone  grave  of  Sallie. 


JAXET    Men  E  A.  G3 


JANET   McllEA. 


SHE  heard  the  fight  was  over, 

And  won  the  wreath  of  fame ! 
When  tidings  from  her  lover, 

"With  his  good  war-steed  came  : 
To  guard  her  safely  to  his  tent, 
The  red-men  of  the  woods  were  sent. 

They  led  her  where  sweet  waters  gush 
Under  the  pine-tree  bough  ! 

The  tomahawk  is  raised  to  crush  — 
'Tis  buried  in  her  brow  ! 
She  sleeps  beneath  that  pine-tree  now  I 

n. 

Her  broken-hearted  lover 

In  hopeless  conflict  died ! 
The  forest-leaves  now  cover 

That  soldier  and  his  bride ! 


J  A  NET    Men  E  A. 


The  frown  of  the  Great  Spirit  fell 
Upon  the  red-men  like  a  spell  ! 

~No  more  those  waters  slake  their  thirst, 
Shadeless  to  them  that  tree  ! 

O'er  land  and  lake  they  roam  accurst, 
And  in  the  clouds  they  see 
Thy  spirit,  unavenged,  McEeal 


L  I  SETTE. 


LISETTE. 


YOUNG  Love  in  myrtle  shades  reposed, 
His  bow  and  darts  behind  him  slung  ; 

As  dewy  twilight  round  him  closed, 
Lisette  these  numbers  sung : 

"  O  Love  !  thy  sylvan  bower 

I'll  fly  while  I've  the  power; 

Thy  primrose  way  leads  maids  where  they 

Love,  honour  and  obey  !" 

n. 
"  Escape,"  the  boy-god  said,  "  is  vain !" 

And  shook  the  diamonds  from  his  wings 
"I'll  bind  thee  captive  in  my  train, 

Fairest  of  earthly  things  !" 
"  Go,  saucy  archer,  go ! 
I  freedom's  value  know : 
Begone,  I  pray  —  to  none  I  '11  say 
Love,  honour  and  obey !" 


C6  L  I  S  E  T  T  E. 

III. 
"Speed,  arrow,  to  thy  mark!"  he  cried- 

Swift  as  a  ray  of  light  it  flew  ! 
Love  spread  his  purple  pinions  wide, 

And  faded  from  her  view ! 
Joy  filled  that  maiden's  eyes  — 
Twin  load-stars  from  the  skies !  — 
On  bridal  day,  her  lips  did  say, 
"  Love,  honour  and  obey !" 


MY    MOTHER'S    BIBLE.  67 


MY  MOTHER'S   BIBLE. 

i. 

THIS  book  is  all  that 's  left  me  now !  — 

Tears  will  unbidden  start — 
With  faltering  lip  and  throbbing  brow 

I  press  it  to  my  heart. 
For  many  generations  past, 

Here  is  our  family  tree ; 
My  mother's  hands  this  Bible  clasped ; 

She,  dying,  gave  it  me. 

n. 
Ah !  well  do  I  remember  those 

Whose  names  these  records  bear ; 
Who  round  the  hearth-stone  used  to  close 

After  the  evening  prayer, 
And  speak  of  what  these  pages  said, 

In  tones  my  heart  would  thrill ! 
Though  they  are  with  the  silent  dead, 

Here  are  they  living  still ! 


63  MY    MOTHER'S    U  I  15  L  E. 

III. 

My  father  read  this  holy  book 

To  brothers,  sisters  dear ; 
How  calm  was  my  poor  mother's  look 

Who  leaned  God's  word  to  hear ! 
Her  angel-faee — I  see  it  yet ! 

What  thronging  memories  come  !  — 
Again  that  little  group  is  met 

Within  the  halls  of  home ! 

IV. 

Thou  truest  friend  man  ever  knew, 

Thy  constancy  I've  tried: 
When  all  were  false  I  found  thee  true, 

My  counsellor  and  guide. 
The  mines  of  earth  no  treasures  give 

That  could  this  volume  buy  : 
In  teaching  me  the  way  to  live, 

It  taught  me  how  to  die. 


THE    DOG-STAR    RAGE  S."  C9 


"THE   DOG-STAR   EAGES." 

i. 
UXSEAL,  the  city  fountains, 

And  let  the  waters  flow 
In  coolness  from  the  mountains 

Unto  the  plains  below. 
My  brain  is  parched  and  erring, 

The  pavement  hot  and  dry, 
And  not  a  breath  is  stirring 

Beneath  the  burning  sky. 

n. 
The  belles  have  all  departed — 

There  does  not  linger  one  ! 
Of  course  the  mart's  deserted 

By  every  mother's  son, 
Except  the  street  musician, 

And  men  of  lesser  note, 
Whose  only  earthly  mission 

Is  but  to  toil  and  vote. 


'THE    DOG-STAR    RAGES." 


III. 

A  woman — blessings  on  her!  — 

Beneath  my  window  see ; 
She 's  singing  —  what  an  honour !  — 

"  Oh !  Woodman,  spare  that  tree  1" 
Her  "man"  the  air  is  killing — 

His  organ's  out  of  tune  — 
They  're  gone,  with  my  last  shilling, 
•  To  Florence's  saloon. 

rv. 

New- York  is  most  compactly 

Of  brick  and  mortar  made — • 
Thermometer  exactly 

One  hundred  in  the  shade ! 
A  furnace  would  be  safer 

Than  this  my  letter-room, 
Where  gleams  the  sun,  a  wafer 

About  to  seal  my  doom. 

v. 

The  town  looks  like  an  ogre, 

The  country  like  a  bride ; 
Wealth  hies  to  Saratoga, 

And  Worth  to  Sunny-side. 


THE    DOG-STAR    RAGE  S." 


"While  Fashion  seeks  the  islands 

Encircled  by  the  sea, 
Taste  finds  the  Hudson  highlands 

More  beautiful  and  free. 


VI. 

The  omnibuses  rumble 

Along  their  cobbled  way  — 
The  "  twelve  inside"  more  humble 

Than  he  who  takes  the  pay : 
From  morn  till  midnight  stealing, 

His  horses  come  and  go  — 
The  only  creatures  feeling 

The  "  luxury  of  wo !" 


vn. 

"We  editors  of  papers, 

"Who  coin  our  brains  for  bread 
By  solitary  tapers 

"While  others  doze  in  bed, 
Have  tasks  as  sad  and  lonely, 

However  wrong  or  right, 
But  with  this  difference  only, 

The  horses  rest  at  night. 


72  "THE    DOO-STAR    RAGES. 

VIII. 

From  twelve  to  nearly  fifty 

I've  toiled  and  idled  not, 
And,  though  accounted  thrifty, 

I  'm  scarcely  worth  a  groat ; 
However,  I  inherit 

"What  few  have  ever  gained — 
A  bright  and  cheerful  spirit 

That  never  has  complained. 

IX. 

A  stillness  and  a  sadness 

Pervade  the  City  Hall, 
And  speculating  madness 

Has  left  the  street  of  Wall ; 
The  Union  Square  looks  really 

Both  desolate  and  dark, 
And  that 's  the  case,  or  nearly, 

From  Battery  to  Park. 


Had  I  a  yacht,  like  Miller, 
That  skimmer  of  the  seas  — 

A  wheel  rigged  on  a  tiller, 
And  a  fresh  gunwale  breeze, 


'THE    DOG-STAR    RAGES." 


A  crew  of  friends  well  chosen, 

And  all  a-taimto,  I 
Would  sail  for  regions  frozen  — 

I'd  rather  freeze  than  fry. 

XI. 

Oh,  this  confounded  weather ! 

(As  some  one  sung  or  said,) 
My  pen,  though  but  a  feather, 

Is  heavier  than  lead  ; 
At  every  pore  I'm  oozing — 

(I'm  "caving  in"  to-day)  — 
My  plumptitude  I'm  losing, 

And  dripping  fast  away. 

XII. 

I'm  weeping  like  the  willow 

That  droops  in  leaf  and  bough - 
Let  Croton's  sparkling  billow 

Flow  through  the  city  now ; 
And,  as  becomes  her  station, 

The  muse  will  close  her  prayer : 
God  save  the  Corporation ! 

Long  live  the  valiant  Mayor  1 


A    L  E  Or  E  N  D    O  F    THE    M  0  II  A  W  K. 


A   LEGEND   OF   THE   MOHAWK. 


IN  the  days  that  are  gone,  by  this  sweet-flowing  water, 
Two  lovers  reclined  in  the  shade  of  a  tree ; 

She  was  the  mountain-king's  rosy-lipped  daughter, 
The  brave  warrior-chief  of  the  valley  was  he. 

Then  all  things  around  them,  below  and  above, 

Were  basking  as  now  in  the  sunshine  of  love  — 
In  the  days  that  are  gone,  by  this  sweet-flowing  stream. 

ii. 

In  the  days  that  are  gone  they  were  laid  'neath  the  willow, 
The  maid  in  her  beauty,  the  youth  in  his  pride  ; 

Both  slain  by  the  foeman  who  crossed  the  dark  billow, 
And  stole  the  broad  lands  where  their  children  reside : 

Whose  fathers,  when  dying,  in  fear  looked  above, 

And  trembled  to  think  of  that  chief  and  his  love, 

In  the  days  that  are  gone,  by  this  sweet-flowing  stream. 


THE  BALL- ROOM  BELLE.          75 


THE   BALL-ROOM   BELLE. 


THE  moon  and  all  her  starry  train 

Were  fading  from  the  morning  sky, 
"When  home  the  ball-room  belle  again 
Returned,  with  throbbing  pulse  and  brain, 
Flushed  cheek  and  tearful  eye. 

H. 

The  plume  that  dancea  above  her  brow, 

The  gem  that  sparkled  in  her  zone, 
The  scarf  of  spangled  leaf  and  bough, 
Were  laid  aside — they  mocked  her  now, 
When  desolate  and  lone. 


m. 

That  night  how  many  hearts  she  won ! 
The  reigning  belle,  she  could  not  stir, 


76          THE  BALL- ROOM  BELLE. 

But,  like  the  planets  round  the  sun, 
Her  suitors  followed — all  but  one — 
One  all  the  world  to  her ! 

IV. 

And  she  had  lost  him ! — Marvel  not 

That  lady's  eyes  with  tears  were  wet ! 
Though  love  by  man  is  soon  forgot, 
It  never  yet  was  woman's  lot 
To  love  and  to  forget. 


WE    WERE    BOYS    TOGETHER.  77 


WE    WERE    BOYS   TOGETHER. 


WE  were  boys  together, 

And  never  can  forget 
The  school-house  near  the  heather, 

In  childhood  where  we  met ; 
The  humble  home  to  memory  dear, 

Its  sorrows  and  its  joys  ; 
Where  woke  the  transient  smile  or  tear, 

When  you  and  I  were  boys. 

n. 

We  were  youths  together, 

And  castles  built  in  air, 
Your  heart  was  like  a  feather, 

And  mine  weighed  down  with  care ; 
To  you  came  wealth  with  manhood's  prime, 

To  me  it  brought  alloys  — 
Foreshadowed  in  the  primrose  time, 

When  you  and  I  were  boys. 


73  WE    W.ERE    BOYS    TOGETHER. 

III. 

"We're  old  men  together — 

The  friends  we  loved  of  yore, 
With  leaves  of  autumn  weather, 

Are  gone  for  evermore. 
How  blest  to  age  the  impulse  given, 

The  hope  time  ne'er  destroys  — 
Which  led  our  thoughts  from  earth  to  heaven, 

When  you  and  I  were  boys ! 


0  II,    BOAT  M  A  X,    II  A  S  T  E !  79 


OH,   BOATMAN,   HASTE! 

TWILIGHT. 

OH,  boatman,  haste  ! — The  twilight  hour 

Is  closing  gently  o'er  the  lea ! 
The  sun,  whose  setting  shuts  the  flower, 
Has  looked  his  last  upon  the  sea ! 

Row,  then,  boatman,  row ! 

Row,  then,  boatman,  row  ! 
Row  !  —  aha !  —  we  've  moon  and  star ! 
And  our  skiff  with  the  stream  is  flowing. 

Heigh-ho ! — ah ! — heigh-ho !  — • 

Echo  responds  to  my  sad  heigh-ho ! 


MIDNIGHT. 

Oh,  boatman,  haste! — The  sentry  calls 
The  midnight  hour  on  yonder  shore, 

And  silvery  sweet  the  echo  falls 

As  music  dripping  from  the  oar  1 


80  O  II,    15  U  A  T  M  AN,    HASTE! 

Row,  then,  boatman,  row ! 

Row,  then,  boatman,  row ! 
Row!  —  afar  fade  moon  and  star! 
While  our  skiff  with  the  stream  is  flowing ! 

Heigh-ho  !  —  ah  !  —  heigh-ho !  — • 

Echo  responds  to  my  sad  heigh-ho  ! 

DAWN. 

Oh,  boatman,  haste! — The  morning  beam 

Glides  through  the  fleecy  clouds  above 
So  breaks  on  life's  dark,  murm'ring  stream, 
The  rosy  dawn  of  woman's  love ! 

Row,  then,  boatman,  row ! 

Row,  then,  boatman,  row ! 
Row !  —  'T  is  day !  —  away — away ! 
To  land  with  the  stream  we  are  flowing ! 

Heigh-ho !  —  dear  one — ho ! 

Beauty  responds  to  my  glad  heigh-ho  ! 


FUNERAL    HYMN.  81 


FUNERAL  HYMN. 

i. 

"  MAK  dietli  and  wastetli  away, 

And  where  is  lie?"  —  Hark!  from  the  skies 
I  hear  a  voice  answer  and  say, 

"  The  spirit  of  man  never  dies : 
His  body,  which  came  from  the  earth, 

Must  mingle  again  with  the  sod ; 
But  his  soul,  which  in  heaven  had  birth, 

Returns  to  the  bosom  of  God." 

n. 

No  terror  has  death,  or  the  grave, 

To  those  who  believe  in  the  Lord  — 
We  know  the  Redeemer  can  save, 

And  lean  on  the  faith  of  his  word ; 
While  ashes  to  ashes,  and  dust 

We  give  unto  dust,  in  our  gloom, 
The  light  of  salvation,  we  trust, 

Is  hung  like  n.  lamp  in  the  tomb. 


82  FUNERAL    HYMN. 

III. 
The  sky  will  be  burnt  as  a  scroll  — 

The  earth,  wrapped  in  flames,  will  expire ; 
But,  freed  from  all  shackles,  the  soul 

Will  rise  in  the  midst  of  the  fire. 
Then,  brothers,  mourn  not  for  the  dead, 

Who  rest  from  their  labours,  forgiven : 
Learn  this  from  your  Bible  instead, 

The  grave  is  the  gateway  to  heaven. 

IV. 

O  Lord  God  Almighty  !  to  Thee 

We  tnrn  as  our  solace  above ; 
The  waters  may  fail  from  the  sea, 

But  not  from  Thy  fountains  of  love  : 
Oh,  teach  us  Thy  will  to  obey, 

And  sing  with  one  heart  and  accord, 
"  He  gave  and  He  taketh  away, 

And  praised  be  the  name  of  the  Lord !" 


O'ER    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


83 


O'ER  THE   MOUNTAINS. 


SOME  spirit  wafts  our  mountain  lay  — 

Hili  ho  !  boys,  hili  ho  ! 
To  distant  groves  and  glens  away ! 

Hili  ho  !  boys,  hili  ho  ! 
E'en  so  the  tide  of  empire  flows  — 

Ho !  boys,  hili  ho ! 
Rejoicing  as  it  westward  goes! 

Ho  !  boys,  hili  ho ! 
To  refresh  our  weary  way, 

Gush  the  crystal  fountains, 
As  a  pilgrim  band  we  stray 
Cheerly  o'er  the  mountains. 


n. 


The  woodland  rings  with  song  and  shout ! 

Hili  ho !  boys,  hili  ho ! 
As  though  a  fairy  hunt  were  out ! 

Hili  ho !  boys,  hili  ho ! 


O'EK    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


E'en  so  the  voice  of  woman  cheers  — 

Ho  !  boys,  hili  ho  ! 
The  hearts  of  hardy  mountaineers  ! 

Ho  !  boys,  hili  ho  ! 
Like  the  glow  of  northern  skies, 

Mirrored  in  the  fountains, 
Beams  the  love-light  of  fond  eyes, 
As  we  cross  the  mountains. 


W  0  M  A  X.  85 


WOMAN. 


AH,  woman!  —  in  this  world  of  ours, 
"What  boon  can  be  compared  to  thee?  — 

How  slow  would  drag  life's  weary  hours, 

Though  man's  proud  brow  were  bound  with  flowers, 
And  his  the  wealth  of  land  and  sea, 

If  destined  to  exist  alone, 

And  ne'er  call  woman's  heart  his  own ! 

n. 

My  mother! — At  that  holy  name, 

"Within  my  bosom  there 's  a  gush 
Of  feeling,  which  no  time  can  tame  — 
A  feeling,  which,  for  years  of  fame, 

I  would  not,  could  not,  crush ! 
And  sisters ! — ye  are  dear  as  life ; 
But  when  I  look  upon  my  wife, 

My  heart-blood  gives  a  sudden  rush, 


86  W  0  M  A  X. 

And  all  my  fond  affections  blend 

In  mother — sisters — wife  and  friend! 

in. 

Yes,  woman's  love  is  free  from  guile, 

And  pure  as  bright  Aurora's  ray ; 
The  heart  will  melt  before  her  smile, 

And  base-born  passions  fade  away ! 
Were  I  the  monarch  of  the  earth, 

Or  master  of  the  swelling  sea, 
I  would  not  estimate  their  worth, 

Dear  woman,  half  the  price  of  thee. 


R  OS  AB  EL. 


ROSABEL. 

i. 

I  MISS  tliee  from  my  side,  beloved, 

I  rniss  tliee  from  my  side ; 
And  wearily  and  drearily 

Flows  Time's  resistless  tide. 
The  world,  and  all  its  fleeting  joys, 

To  me  are  worse  than  vain, 
Until  I  clasp  thee  to  my  heart, 

Beloved  one,  again. 

IT. 
The  wildwood  and  the  forest-path, 

"We  used  to  thread  of  yore, 
"What  bird  and  bee  have  flown  with  thee, 

And  gone  for  evermore ! 
There  is  no  music  in  the  grove, 

No  echo  on  the  hill ; 
But  melancholy  boughs  are  there  — 

And  hushed  the  whip-poor-will. 


88  ROSABEL. 

III. 
I  miss  thee  in  the  town,  beloved, 

I  miss  thee  in  the  town  ; 
From  morn  I  grieve  till  dewy  eve 

Spreads  wide  its  mantle  brown. 
My  spirit's  wings,  that  once  could  soar 

In  Fancy's  world  of  air, 
Are  crushed  and  beaten  to  the  ground 

By  life-corroding  care. 

rv. 

No  more  I  hear  thy  thrilling  voice, 

Nor  see  thy  winning  face  ; 
That  once  would  gleam  like  morning's  beam, 

In  mental  pride  and  grace  : 
Thy  form  of  matchless  symmetry, 

In  sweet  perfection  cast  — 
Is  now  the  star  of  memory 

That  fades  not  with  the  past. 

v. 

I  miss  thee  everywhere,  beloved, 

I  miss  thee  everywhere ; 
Both  night  and  day  wear  dull  away, 

And  leave  me  in  despair. 


ROSA  P>  E  L.  89 

The  banquet-hall,  the  play,  the  ball, 

And  childhood's  sportive  glee, 
Have  lost  their  spell  for  me,  beloved, 

My  soul  is  full  of  thee ! 

VI. 

Has  Rosabel  forgotten  me, 

And  love  I  now  in  vain  ? 
If  that  be  so,  my  heart  can  know 

No  rest  on  earth  again. 
A  sad  and  weary  lot  is  mine, 

To  love  and  be  forgot ; 
A  sad  and  weary  lot,  beloved  — 

A  sad  and  weary  lot ! 


90  THY    TYRANT    SWAY. 


THY   TYRANT   SWAY. 


THE  heart  that  owns  thy  tyrant  sway, 
Whate'er  its  hopes  may  be, 

Is  like  a  bark  that  drifts  away 
Upon  a  shoreless  sea ! 

No  compass  left  to  guide  her  on, 

Upon  the  surge  she's  tempest-torn  — 
And  such  is  life  to  me ! 

ii. 

And  what  is  life  when  love  is  fled  ? 

The  world,  unshared  by  thee  ? 
I'd  rather  slumber  with  the  dead, 

Than  such  a  waif  to  be ! 
The  bark  that  by  no  compass  steers 
Is  lost,  which  way  soe'er  she  veers  — 

And  such  is  life  to  me ! 


A    HERO    OF    THE    REVOLUTION.  91 


A   HERO    OF   THE   REVOLUTION 


LET  not  a  tear  be  shed ! 

Of  grief  give  not  a  token, 
Although  the  silver  thread 

And  golden  bowl  be  broken ! 
A  warrior  lived  —  a  Christian  died ! 
Sorrow 's  forgotten  in  our  pride ! 

*n. 

4 

Go,  bring  his  battle-blade, 

His  helmet  and  his  plume  ! 
And  be  his  trophies  laid 

Beside  him  in  the  tomb, 
Where  files  of  time-marked  veterans  come 
"With  martial  tramp  and  muffled  drum ! 


92  A    II  ERG    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 

III. 

Give  to  the  earth  his  frame, 

To  moulder  and  decay  ; 
But  not  his  deathless  name  — 

That  cannot  pass  away ! 
In  youth,  in  manhood,  and  in  age, 
He  dignified  his  country's  page  ! 

IV. 

Green  be  the  willow-bough 
Above  the  swelling  mound, 

"Where  sleeps  the  hero  now 
In  consecrated  ground : 

Thy  epitaph,  O  Delavan ! 

God's  noblest  work — an  honest  man! 


RHYME    AND    REASON.  93 


RHYME   AND   REASON, 


AN    APOLOGUE. 


Two  children  of  the  olden  time, 

In  Flora's  primrose  season, 
Were  born.     The  name  of  one  was  Rhyme, 

That  of  the  other  Reason. 
And  both  were  beautiful  and  fair, 
And  pure  as  mountain  stream  and  air. 

n. 

As  the  boys  together  grew, 

Happy  fled  their  hours — 
Grief  or  care  they  never  knew 

In  the  Paphian  bowers. 
See  them  roaming,  hand  in  hand, 
The  pride  of  all  the  choral  band ! 


94  R  II  Y  ME    A  X  D    R  E  A  S  0  N. 

III. 

Music  with  harp  of  golden  strings, 
Love  with  bow  and  quiver, 

Airy  sprites  on  radiant  wings, 
Nymphs  of  wood  and  river, 

Joined  the  Muses'  constant  song, 

As  Rhyme  and  Eeason  passed  along. 

IV. 

But  the  scene  was  changed — the  boys 

Left  their  native  soil  — 
Rhyme's  pursuit  was  idle  joys, 

Reason's  manly  toil : 
Soon  Rhyme  was  starving  in  a  ditch, 
While  Reason  grew  exceeding  rich. 


v. 


Since  the  dark  and  fatal  hour, 

When  the  brothers  parted, 
Reason  has  had  wealth  and  power — 

Rhyme 's  poor  and  broken-hearted ! 
And  now,  or  bright  or  stormy  weather, 
They  twain  are  seldom  seen  together. 


STARLIGHT    RECOLLECTION  S. 


STARLIGHT   RECOLLECTIONS, 


'TWAS  night.     Near  the  murmuring  Saone, 

We  met  with  no  witnesses  by, 
But  such  as  resplendently  shone 

In  the  blue-tinted  vault  of  the  sky: 
Your  head  on  my  bosom  was  laid, 

As  you  said  you  would  ever  be  mine ; 
And  I.  promised  to  love,  dearest  maid, 

And  worship  alone  at  your  shrine. 

n. 
Your  love  on  my  heart  gently  fell 

As  the  dew  on  the  flowers  at  eve, 
"Whose  bosoms  with  gratitude  swell, 

A  blessing  to  give  and  receive  : 
And  I  knew  by  the  glow  on  your  cheek, 

And  the  rapture  you  could  not  control, 
No  power  had  language  to  speak 

The  faith  or  content  of  your  soul. 


96  STARLIGHT   RECOLLECTIONS. 

III. 
I  love  you  as  none  ever  loved  — 

As  the  steel  to  the  star  I  am  true ; 
And  I,  dearest  maiden,  have  proved 

That  none  ever  loved  me  but  you. 
Till  Memory  loses  her  power, 

Or  the  sands  of  my  being  have  run, 
I'll  remember  the  star-lighted  hour 

That  mingled  two  hearts  into  one. 


E  A  II  I  K  S    M  Y    L  0  V  E  ? 


WEARIES    MY   LOYE? 

i. 
WEARIES  my  love  of  my  letters? 

Does  slie  my  silence  command? 
Sunders  slie  Love's  rosy  fetters 

As  though  they  were  woven  of  sand? 
Tires  she  too  of  each  token 

Indited  with  many  a  sigh  ? 
Are  all  her  promises  broken? 

And  must  I  love  on  till  I  die  ? 

n. 
Thinks  my  dear  love  that  I  blame  her 

With  what  was  a  burden  to  part? 
Ah,  no  !  —  with  affection  I'll  name  her 

While  lingers  a  pulse  in  my  heart. 
Although  she  has  clouded  with  sadness, 

And  blighted  the  bloom  of  ray  years, 
I  love  her  still,  even  to  madness, 

And  bless  her  through  showers  of  tears 


L. 


98  WEARIES    MY    LOVE? 

III. 

My  pen  I  have  laid  down  in  sorrow, 

The  songs  of  my  lute  I  forego  ; 
From  neither  assistance  I'll  borrow 

To  utter  my  heart-seated  wo  ! 
But  peace  to  her  bosom,  wherever 

Her  thoughts  or  her  footsteps  may  stray 
Memento  of  mine  again  never 

Will  shadow  the  light  of  her  way ! 


FARE    TITEE    WELL,    LOVE.  99 


FARE  THEE  WELL,  LOYE. 

i. 

FARE  tliee  well,  love  ! — "We  must  sever! 
Not  for  years,  love  ;  but  for  ever ! 
We  must  meet  no  more  —  or  onl j 
Meet  as  strangers  —  sad  and  lonely. 
Fare  thee  well ! 

n. 

Fare  thee  well,  love!  —  How  I  languish 
For  the  cause  of  all  my  anguish ! 
ISTone  have  ever  met  and  parted 
So  forlorn  and  broken-hearted. 
Fare  thee  well ! 

in. 

Fare  thee  well,  love! — Till  I  perish 
All  iny  truth  for  thee  I'll  cherish  ; 
And,  when  thou  my  requiem  hearcst, 
Know  till  death  I  loved  thee,  dearest. 
Fare  thee  well ! 


100  THOU    HAST    W  O  V  E  X    T  II  K    S  P  E  L  L. 


THOU   HAST   WOVEN   THE   SPELL. 

i. 

THOU  hast  woven  the  spell  tliat  liatli  bound  me, 

Through  all  the  sad  changes  of  years ; 
And  the  smiles  that  I  wore  when  I  fbnnd  thee, 

Have  faded  and  melted  in  tears  ! 
Like  the  poor,  wounded  fawn  from  the  mountain, 

That  seeks  out  the  clear  silver  tide, 
I  have  lingered  in  vain  at  the  fountain 

Of  hope  —  with  a  shaft  in  my  side  ! 

IT, 
Thou  hast  taught  me  that  Love's  rosy  fetters 

A  pang  from  the  thorns  may  impart ; 
That  the  coinage  of  vows  and  of  letters 

Comes  not  from  the  mint  of  the  heart. 
Like  the  lone  bird  that  flutters  her  pinion, 

And  warbles  in  bondage  her  strain, 
I  have  struggled  to  fly  thy  dominion, 

But  find  that  the  struggle  is  vain  ! 


BESSY    BELL.  101 


BESSY   BELL. 


WHEN  life  looks  drear  and  lonely,  love, 

And  pleasant  fancies  flee, 
Then  will  the  Muses  only,  love, 

Bestow  a  thought  on  me ! 
Mine  is  a  harp  which  Pleasure,  love, 

To  waken  strives  in  vain; 
To  Joy's  entrancing  measure,  love, 

It  ne'er  can  thrill  again  !  — 

"Why  mock  me,  Bessy  Bell  ? 

ir. 

Oh,  do  not  ask  me  ever,  love, 
For  rapture-woven  rhymes ; 

For  vain  is  each  endeavour,  love, 
To  sound  Mirth's  play-bell  chimes ! 


102  BESSY    BELL. 


Yet  still  believe  me,  dearest  love, 
Though  sad  my  song  may  be, 

This  heart  still  doats  sincerest,  love, 
And  grateful  turns  to  thee  — 

My  once  fond  Bessy  Bell ! 

in. 

Those  eyes  still  rest  upon  me,  love ! 

I  feel  their  magic  spell ! 
With  that  same  look  you  won  me,  love, 

Fair,  gentle  Bessy  Bell ! 
My  doom  you've  idly  spoken,  love  — 

You  never  can  be  mine  ! 
But  though  my  heart  is  broken,  love, 

Still,  Bessy,  it  is  thine  ! 

Adieu,  false  Bessy  Bell ! 


THE    DAY    IS    X  0  W    DAWXIXG.  10 


THE   DAY   IS    XOW    DAWXIXG, 

W I  L  L  I  A  II. 

THE  day  is  now  dawning,  love, 

Fled  is  the  night  — 
I  go  like  the  morning,  love, 

Cheerful  and  bright. 
Then  adieu,  dearest  Ellen : 

When  evening  is  near, 
I'll  visit  thy  dwelling, 

For  true  love  is  here. 

ELLEN. 
Oh,  come  where  the  fountain,  love, 

Tranquilly  flows ; 
Beneath  the  green  mountain,  love, 

Seek  for  repose ; 
There  the  days  of  our  child  hood, 

In  love's  golden  beam, 
'Hong  the  blue-bells  and  wildwood, 

Passed  on  like  a  dream. 


THE    DAY    IS    NOW    DAWNIXG. 


WILLIAM. 

Oh,  linger  awhile,  love ! 

ELLEN. 
I  must  away. 

WILLIAM. 

Oh,  grant  ine  thy  smile,  love, 
'Tis  Hope's  cheering  ray — • 
With  evening  expect  me. 

ELLEN. 
To  the  moment  be  true, 

And  may  angels  protect  thee- 

B  o  T  n. 

Sweet  Ellen,  adieu! 
Dear  "William,  adieu! 


AV  II  K  X    O  T  IT  E  R    F  R  I  E  X  D  3.  1  05 


WHEN    OTHER   FEIEXDS. 

i. 
WHKN  other  friends  are  round  thee, 

And  other  hearts  are  thine  — 
When  other  bays  have  crowned  thee, 

More  fresh  and  green  than  mine  — 
Then  think  how  sad  and  lonely 

This  doating  heart  will  be, 
Which,  while  it  throbs,  throbs  only, 

Beloved  one,  for  thee ! 

n. 
Yet  do  not  think  I  doubt  thee, 

I  know  thy  truth  remains ; 
I  would  not  live  without  thee, 

For  all  the  world  contains. 
Thou  art  the  star  that  guides  me 

Along  life's  troubled  sea  \ 
And  whatever  fate  betides  me, 

Tliis  heart  still  turns  to  thee. 


10G  S  I  L  K  X  T    0  R  I  E  F. 


SILENT   GRIEF. 

i. 
WHERE  is  now  my  peace  of  mind  ? 

Gone,  alas  !  for  evermore  : 
Turn  where'er  I  may,  I  find 

Thorns  where  roses  bloomed  before ! 
O'er  the  green  fields  of  my  soul, 

Where  the  springs  of  joy  were  found, 
Now  the  clouds  of  sorrow  roll. 

Shading  all  the  prospect  round  ! 

ii. 
Do  I  merit  pangs  like  these, 

That  have  cleft  my  heart  in  twain? 
Must  I,  to  the  very  lees, 

Drain  thy  bitter  chalice,  Pain? 
Silent  grief  all  grief  excels ; 

Life  and  it  together  part  — 
Like  a  restless  worm  it  dwells 

Deep  within  the  human  heart ! 


r 

L  0  Y  E    THEE,    D  E  A  II  E  S  T  ?  107 


LOVE   TIIEE,    DEAREST? 

i. 
LOVE  thee,  dearest?  —  Hear  me.  —  Kever 

Will  my  fond  vows  be  forgot! 
May  I  perish,  and  for  ever, 

When,  dear  maid,  I  love  thee  not! 
Then  turn  not  from  me,  dearest! — Listen  ! 

Banish  all  thy  doubts  and  fears ! 
And  let  thine  eyes  with  transport  glisten ! 

What  hast  thou  to  do  with  tears? 

ii. 
Dry  them,  dearest!  —  Ah,  believe  me, 

Love's  bright  flame  is  burning  still! 
Though  the  hollow  world  deceive  thee, 

Here's  a  heart  that  never  will! 
Dost  thou  smile?  —  A  cloud  of  sorrow 

Breaks  before  Joy's  rising  sun  ! 
Wilt  thou  give  thy  hand?  —  To-morrow, 

Hymen,  dearest,  makes  us  one  ! 


108  A    SCE  X  E    AT    SEA. 


A   SCEXE   AT   SEA. 

ABOVE  our  heads  the  moon  and  stars 

"Were  smiling  brightly  and  serene, 
Painting  the  waves  with  silver  bars, 

And  lighting  up  that  ocean-scene  : 
And  on  our  right  the  lightnings  threw 

Their  shafts  of  fire  far  and  free  ; 
"While,  like  a  bird  with  proud  wings,  flew 

Our  vessel  through  that  snow-curled  sea, 
And  all  above,  below,  around, 
Was  full  of  grandeur !     Every  sound 

The  winds  and  waters  breathed  were  such 
As  I  had  never  heard  before  ! 

Oh,  who  can  tell  the  heart  how  much 
At  such  an  hour  it  will  adore 

Tli'  Inscrutable  First  Cause  which  we 

Behold  in  everything  at  sea ! 


I    LOVE    T  II  E    X  I  0  II  T.  109 


I   LOVE   THE    TsTIGIIT. 

i. 
I  LOVE  the  night  when  the  moon  streams  bright 

On  flowers  that  drink  the  dew  — 
"When  cascades  shout  as  the  stars  peep  out, 

From  boundless  fields  of  blue  ; 
But  dearer  far  than  moon  or  star, 

Or  flowers  of  gaudy  hue, 
Or  gurgling  trills  of  mountain-rills, 

I  love,  I  love,  love  —  you! 

ir. 

I  love  to  stray  at  the  close  of  day, 
Through  "roves  of  forest-trees, 

O          O  ' 

"When  gushing  notes  from  song-birdsv  throats 

Are  vocal  in  the  breeze. 
Llove  the  night  —  the  glorious  night  — 

"When  hearts  beat  warm  and  true ; 
But  far  above  the  night,  I  love, 

I  love,  I  love,  love  — yon ! 


HO  THE   MINIATURE. 


THE   MINIATURE. 


WILLIAM  was  holding  in  his  Land 

The  likeness  of  his  wife  — 
Fresh,  as  if  touched  by  fairy  wand, 

With  beauty,  grace  and  life. 
He  almost  thought  it  spoke  : 

He  gazed  upon  the  treasure  still, 
Absorbed,  delighted  and  amazed, 

To  view  the  artist's  skill. 

n. 

"This  picture  is  yourself,  dear  Jane  — 

'Tis  drawn  to  nature  true : 
I've  kissed  it  o'er  and  o'er  again, 

It  is  so  much  like  you." 
"  And  has  it  kissed  you  back,  my  dear  ?" 

"Why — no  —  my  love,"  said  he. 
"  Then,  William,  it  is  very  clear 

'Tis  not  at  all  like  me  /" 


T  ir  ;•;  i:  , 


THE    EETORT. 


OLD  Xick,  who  taught  the  village-school, 
Wedded  a  maid  of  homespun  habit; 

He  was  as  stubborn  as  a  mule, 
She  was  as  playful  as  a  rabbit. 

ii. 

Poor  Jane  had  scarce  become  a  wife, 
Before  her  husband  sought  to  make  her 

The  pink  of  country-polished  life, 
And  prim  and  formal  as  a  quaker. 

in. 

One  day  the  tutor  went  abroad, 

And  simple  Jenny  sadly  missed  him ; 

"When  he  returned,  behind  her  lord 
She  slyly  stole,  and  fondly  kissed  him! 


112  THE    IIETOHT. 


IV. 

The  husband's  anger  rose! — and  red 
And  white  his  face  alternate  grew  ! 

"Less  freedom,  ma'am  !"  —  Jane  sighed  and  said, 
"  Oh,  dear  !  I dldrit  know  'twas  you  /" 


LINES    OX    A    POET. 


113 


LIXES    OX   A   POET. 


How  sweet  the  cadence  of  his  lyre  ! 

What  melody  of  words ! 
They  strike  a  pulse  within  the  heart 

Like  songs  of  forest-birds, 
Or  tinkling  of  the  shepherd's  bell 

Among  the  mountain-herds. 


ii. 

His  mind's  a  cultured  garden, 
Where  Xature's  hand  has  sown 

The  flower-seeds  of  poesy  — 
And  they  have  freshly  grown, 

Imbued  with  beauty  and  perfume 
To  other  plants  unknown. 

in. 

A  bright  career's  before  him  — 
All  tongues  pronounce  his  praise ; 


LINES    ON    A    POET. 

All  hearts  his  inspiration  feel, 

And  will  in  after-days ; 
For  genius  breathes  in  every  lino 

Of  his  soul- thrill  ing  lays. 

IV. 

A  nameless  grace  is  round  him  — 
A  something,  too  refined 

To  be  described,  jet  must  be  felt 
By  all  of  human  kind  — 

An  emanation  of  the  soul, 
That  cannot  be  defined. 


v. 
Then  blessings  on  the  minstrel  — 

His  faults  let  others  scan  : 
There  may  be  spots  upon  the  sun, 

Which  those  may  view  that  can ; 
I  see  them  not — yet  know  him  well 

A   POET   AND   A   MAN. 


THE    BACCHANAL.  Ho 


THE   BACCHANAL, 

i. 

BESIDE  a  cottage-door, 

Sung  Ella  at  her  wheel ; 
Ruthven  rode  o'er  the  moor, 

Down  at  her  feet  to  kneel : 
A  spotted  palfrey  gay 

Came  ambling  at  his  side, 
To  bear  the  maid  away 

As  his  affianced,  bride, 

n. 

A  high-born  noble  he, 

Of  stately  halls  secure ; 
A  low-born  peasant  she, 

Of  parentage  obscure. 
How  soft  the  honeyed  words 

He  breathes  into  her  ears!- 
The  melody  of  birds ! 

The  music  of  the  spheres ! 


110  THE    BACCHANAL. 

III. 

"With  love  her  bosom  swells, 

"Which  she  would  fail  conceal - 
Her  eyes,  like  crystal  wells, 

Its  hidden  depths  reveal. 
"While  liquid  diamonds  drip 

From  feeling's  fountain  warm, 
Flutters  her  scarlet  lip  — 

A  rose-leaf  in  a  storm ! 

IV. 

As  from  an  April  sky 

The  rain-clouds  flit  away, 
So  from  the  maiden's  eye 

Vanished  the  falling  spray, 
"Which  lingered  but  awhile 

Her  dimpled  cheek  upon  — 
Then  melted  in  her  smile, 

Like  vapour  in  the  sun. 

v. 

The  maid  is  all  his  own  — 
She  trusts  his  plighted  word, 

And,  lightly  on  the  roan, 
She  springs  beside  her  lord. 


THE    B  A  C  C  II  A  X  A  L. 


She  leaves  her  father's  cot, 
She  turns  her  from  the  door  — 

That  green  and  holy  spot 

Which  she  will  see  no  more  ! 

vr. 

They  hied  to  foreign  lands, 

That  lord  and  peasant-maid  : 
The  church  ne'er  blessed  their  banns, 

And  Ella  was  betrayed  ! 
Then  drooped  the  lovely  flower, 

Torn  from  its  parent-stem  ; 
Then  fled  in  evil  hour 

The  light  from  out  the  gem  ! 

VII. 

They  laid  her  in  the  ground, 

And  Ella  was  forgot  — 
Dead  was  her  father  found 

In  his  deserted  cot. 
But  Rnth  ven  —  what  of  him? 

lie  ran  the  story  o'er, 
And,  filling  to  the  brim, 

He  thought  of  it  no  more  ! 


118  TWENTY    YEARS    AGO. 


TWENTY    YEARS   AGO. 

i. 

'TWAS  in  the  flush  of  summer-time, 

Some  twenty  years  or  more, 
"When  Ernest  lost  his  way,  and  crossed 

The  threshold  of  our  door. 
I'll  ne'er  forget  his  locks  of  jet, 

His  brow  of  Alpine  snow, 
His  manly  grace  of  form  and  face, 

Some  twenty  years  ago. 

n. 

The  hand  he  asked  I  freely  gave — 

Mine  was  a  happy  lot, 
In  all  my  pride  to  be  his  bride 

"Within  my  father's  cot. 
The  faith  he  spoke  he  never  broke : 

His  faithful  heart  I  know ; 
And  well  I  vow  I  love  him  now 

As  twenty  years  ago. 


NATIONAL    A  XT  II  EM.  119 


NATIONAL   ANTHEM. 

i. 

FREEDOM  spreads  her  downy  wings 
Over  all  created  things  ; 
Glory  to  the  King  of  kings, 

Bend  low  to  Him  the  knee ! 
Bring  the  heart  before  His  throne  — 
Worship  Him  and  Him  alone !  — 
He's  the  only  King  we  own  — 

And  He  has  made  us  free ! 

ii. 

The  holiest  spot  a  smiling  sun 
E'er  shed  his  genial  rays  upon, 
Is  that  which  gave  a  Washington 

The  drooping  world  to  cheer ! 
Sound  the  clarion-peals  of  fame ! 
Ye  who  bear  Columbia's  name !  — 
With  existence  freedom  came — 

It  is  man's  birthright  here ! 


1-20  IS*  A  T  I  O  X  A  L    A  X  T  II  F.  M. 

III. 

Heirs  of  an  immortal  sire, 

Let  his  deeds  your  hearts  inspire ; 

Weave  the  strain  and  wake  the  lyre 

Where  your  proud  altars  stand ! 
Hail  with  pride  and  loud  hurrahs, 
Streaming  from  a  thousand  spars, 
Freedom's  rainbow-flag  of  stars  — 

The  symbol  of  our  land ! 


I    LOVE   THEE   STILL.  1 21 


I   LOYE   THEE    STILL. 

i. 

I  NEVEE  have  been  false  to  tliee  !  — 

The  heart  I  gave  thee  still  is  thine  ; 
Though  thou  hast  been  untrue  to  me, 

And  I  no  more  may  call  thee  mine ! 
I've  loved,  as  woman  ever  loves, 

"With  constant  soul  in  go'od  or  ill : 
Thou  'st  proved,  as  man  too  often  proves, 

A  rover — but  I  love  thee  still ! 

n. 
Yet  think  not  that  my  spirit  stoops 

To  bind  thee  captive  in  my  train !  — 
Love's  not  a  flower,  at  sunset  droops, 

But  smiles  when  comes  her  god  again ! 
Thy  words,  which  fall  unheeded  now, 

Could  >nce  my  heart-strings  madly  thrill! 
Love's  golden  chain  and  burning  vow 

Are  broken  —  but  I  love  thee  still! 


122  I    LOVE    T1IEE    STILL. 

III. 

Once  what  a  heaven  of  bliss  was  ours, 

"When  love  dispelled  the  clouds  of  care, 
And  time  went  by  with  birds  and  flowers, 

While  song  and  incense  filled  the  air ! 
The  past  is  mine  —  the  present  thine  — 

Should  thoughts  of  me  thy  future  fill, 
Think  what  a  destiny  is  mine, 

To  lose — but  love  thee,  false  one,  still! 


LOOK    FROM    THY    LATTICE,     LOVE.        123 


LOOK  FROM  THY  LATTICE,  LOYE, 


LOOK  from  thy  lattice,  love  — 

Listen  to  me ! 
The  cool,  balmy  breeze 

Is  abroad  on  the  sea ! 
The  moon,  like  a  queen, 

Roams  her  realms  above, 
And  naught  is  awake 

But  the  spirit  of  love. 
Ere  morn's  golden  light 

Tips  the  hills  with  its  ray, 
Away  o'er  the  waters — 

Away  and  away ! 
Then  look  from  thy  lattice,  love  — 

Listen  to  me, 
While  the  moon  lights  the  sky, 

And  the  breeze  curls  the  sea ! 


124:   LOOK  FROM  THY  LATTICE,  LOVE. 


II. 

Look  from  thy  lattice,  love  — 

Listen  to  me ! 
In  the  voyage  of  life, 

Love  our  pilot  will  be  I 
He'll  sit  at  the  helm 

"Wherever  we  rove, 
And  steer  by  the  load-star 

lie  kindled  above ! 
His  gem-girdled  shallop 

"Will  cut  the  bright  spray, 
Or  skim,  like  a  bird, 

O'er  the  waters  away  ! 
Then  look  from  thy  lattice,  love  — 

Listen  to  me, 
While  the  moon  lights  the  sky, 

And  the  breeze  curls  the  sea  1 


SHE    LOVED    II  I  M. 


SHE   LOYED   HIM. 

I. 
SHE  loved  him  —  but  she  heeded  not  — 

Her  heart  had  only  room  for  pride  : 
All  other  feelings  were  forgot, 

When  she  became  another's  bride. 
As  from  a  dream  she  then  awoke, 

To  realize  her  lonely  state, 
And  own  it  was  the  vow  she  broke 

That  made  her  drear  and  desolate ! 

n. 
She  loved  him  —  but  the  sland'rer  came, 

With  words  of  hate  that  all  believed  ; 
A  stain  thus  rested  on  his  name  — 

But  he  was  wronged  and  she  deceived ! 
Ah  !  rash  the  act  that  gave  her  hand, 

That  drove  her  lover  from  her  side  — 
Who  hied  him  to  a  distant  land, 

Where,  battling  for  a  name,  he  died! 


120  SHE    LOVED    HIM. 

III. 

She  loved  him  —  and  his  memory  now 

Was  treasured  from  the  world  apart : 
The  calm  of  thought  was  on  her  brow, 

The  seeds  of  death  were  in  her  heart. 
For  all  the  world  that  thing  forlorn 

I  would  not,  could  not  be,  and  live  — 
That  casket  with  its  jewel  gone, 

A  bride  who  has  no  heart  to  give ! 


THE    SUITORS.  127 


THE   SUITOKS. 


WEALTH  sought  the  bower  of  Beauty, 

Dressed  like  a  modern  beau  : 
Just  then  Love,  Health  and  Duty 

Took  up  their  hats  to  go. 
Wealth  such  a  cordial  welcome  met, 

As  made  the  others  grieve  ; 
So  Duty  shunned  the  gay  coquette, 

Love,  pouting,  took  French  leave  — 
He  did! 

Love,  pouting,  took  French  leave ! 

n. 

Old  Time,  the  friend  of  Duty, 
Next  called  to  see  the  fair ; 

He  laid  his  hand  on  Beauty, 
And  left  her  in  despair. 


128  THE    SUITORS. 


"Wealth  vanished!  —  Last  went  rosy  Ilealth- 

And  she  was  doomed  to  prove 
That  those  who  Duty  slight  for  Wealth, 

Can  never  hope  for  Love — • 
Ah,  no ! 

Can  never  hope  for  Love  ! 


ST.    AGXES'    SIIRIXE.  129 


ST.   AGXES'   SHKIXE. 

i. 
WHILE  before  St.  Agnes'  shrine 

Knelt  a  true  knight's  lady-love, 
From  the  wars  of  Palestine 

Came  a  gentle  carrier-dove. 
Round  his  neck  a  silken  string 

Fastened  words  the  warrior  writ : 
At  her  call  he  stooped  his  wing, 

And  upon  her  finger  lit. 

n. 
She,  like  one  enchanted,  pored 

O'er  the  contents  of  the  scroll — 
For  that  lady  loved  her  lord 

"With  a  pure,  devoted  soul. 
To  her  heart  her  dove  she  drew, 

"While  she  traced  the  burning  line ; 
Then  away  his  minion  flew 

Back  to  sainted  Palestine. 


130 


ST.    AG  NES'    S  II  R  I  X  E. 


III. 
To  and  fro,  from  hand  to  hand 

Came  and  went  a  carrier-dove, 
Till  throughout  the  Holy  Land 

War  resigned  his  sword  to  Love. 
Swift  her  dove,  on  wings  of  light, 

Brought  the  news  from  Palestine, 
And  the  lady  her  true  knight 

"Wedded  at  St.  Agnes'  shrine. 


WESTERN    R  E  F  R  A  I  X.  131 


WESTEKX   REFRAIN 


DROOP  not,  brothers ! 
As  we  go, 

O'er  the  mountains, 
Westward  ho ! 
Under  boughs  of  mistletoe, 

Log-huts  we  '11  rear, 
"While  herds  of  deer  and  buffalo 

Furnish  the  cheer. 
File  o'er  the  mountains  —  steady,  boys! 

For  game  afar 
"We  have  our  rifles  ready,  boys !  — 

Aha! 
Throw  care  to  the  winds, 

Like  chaff,  boys ! — ha ! 
And  join  in  the  laugh,  boys  — 

Hah  — hah— hah! 


132  WESTERN    REFRAIX. 

II. 
Cheer  up,  brothers  1 

As  we  go, 
O'er  the  mountains, 
"Westward  hoi 
When  we've  wood  and  prairie  land, 

Won  by  our  toil, 
We  '11  reign  like  kings  in  fairy -land, 

Lords  of  the  soil ! 
Then  westward  ho  !  in  legions,  boys  — 

Fair  Freedom's  star 
Points  to  her  sunset  regions,  boys!  — 

Aha! 
Throw  care  to  the  winds, 

Like  chaff,  boys! — ha! 
And  join  in  the  laugh,  boys — 
Hah — hah — hah  f 


THE    PRAIRIE    OX    FIRE. 


THE   PKAIEIE    ON   FIEE. 

i. 

THE  shades  of  evening  closed  around 

The  boundless  Prairies  of  the  west, 
As,  grouped  in  sadness  on  the  ground, 

A  band  of  pilgrims  leaned  to  rest : 
Upon  the  tangled  weeds  were  laid 

The  mother  and  her  youngest  born, 
Who  slept,  while  others  watched  and  prayed, 

And  thus  the  weary  night  went  on. 

n. 

Thick  darkness  shrouded  earth  and  sky  — 

When  on  the  whispering  winds  there  came 
The  Teton's  shrill  and  thrilling  cry, 

And  heaven  was  pierced  with  shafts  of  flame ! 
The  sun  seemed  rising  through  the  haze, 

But  with  an  aspect  dread  and  dire : 
The  very  air  appeared  to  blaze !  — 

0  God !  the  Prairie  was  on  fire  1 


134  THE    TRAIRIE    OX    FIRE. 

III. 

Around  the  centre  of  the  plain 

A  belt  of  flame  retreat  denied  — 
And,  like  a  furnace,  glowed  the  train 

That  walled  them  in  on  every  side : 
And  onward  rolled  the  torrent  wild  — 

Wreathes  of  dense  smoke  obscured  the  sky ! 
The  mother  knelt  beside  her  child, 

And  all  —  save  one — shrieked  out,  "We  die!" 

IV. 

"  Not  so !"  he  cried.  —  "  Help  !  —  Clear  the  sedge ! 

Strip  bare  a  circle  to  the  land  !" 
That  done,  he  hastened  to  its  edge, 

And  grasped  a  rifle  in  his  hand : 
Dried  weeds  he  held  beside  the  pan, 

Which  kindled  at  a  flash  the  mass ! 
"  Now  fire  fight  fire !"  he  said,  as  ran 

The  forked  flames  among  the  grass. 

v. 

On  three  sides  now  the  torrent  flew, 
But  on  the  fourth  no  more  it  raved ! 

Then  large  and  broad  the  circle  grew, 
And  thus  the  pilgrim  band  was  saved ! 


T  II  K    P  R  A  I  11  I  K    O  X    F  I  R  E. 


The  flames  receded  far  and  wide  —  - 
The  mother  had  not  prayed  in  vain  : 

God  had  the  Teton's  arts  defied  ! 
His  scythe  of  fire  had  sv.'ept  the  plain  ! 


136  THE    EVERGREEN. 


THE  EVERGREEN". 

i. 

LOVE  cannot  be  the  aloe-tree, 

Whose  bloom  but  once  is  seen ; 
Go  search  the  grove — the  tree  of  love 

Is  sure  the  evergreen : 
For  that's  the  same,  in  leaf  or  frame, 

'JSTeath  cold  or  sunny  skies ; 
You  take  the  ground  its  roots  have  bound, 

Or  it,  transplanted,  dies ! 

n. 

That  love  thus  shoots,  and  firmly  roots 

In  woman's  heart,  we  see ; 
Through  smiles  and  tears  in  after-years 

It  grows  a  fadeless  tree. 
The  tree  of  love,  all  trees  above, 

For  ever  may  be  seen, 
In  summer's  bloom  or  winter's  gloom, 

A  hardy  evergreen. 


THE    MAY-QUEEX.  137 


THE   MAY-QUEEN. 


LIKE  flights  of  singing-birds  went  by 
The  cheerful  hours  of  girlhood's  day, 
When,  in  my  native  bowers, 
Of  simple  buds  and  flowers 
They  wove  a  crown,  and  hailed  me  Queen  of  May ! 

n. 

Like  airy  sprites  the  lasses  came, 
Spring's  offerings  at  my  feet  to  lay ; 
The  crystal  from  the  fountain, 
The  green  bough  from  the  mountain, 
They  brought  to  cheer  and  shade  the  Queen  of  May. 

m. 

Around  the  May-pole  on  the  green, 
A  fairy  ring  they  tripped  away ; 
All  merriment  and  pleasure, 
To  chords  of  tuneful  measure 
They  bounded  by  the  happy  Queen  of  May. 


138  THE    MAY-QUEEN. 

IV. 

Though  years  have  passed,  and  Time  has  strown 
My  raven  locks  with  flakes  of  gray, 
Fond  Memory  brings  the  hours 
Of  buds  and  blossom-showers 
"When  in  girlhood  I  was  crowned  the  Queen  of  May. 


V  E  X  E  T  IAN    S  E  R  E  X  A  D  E.  1 ,39 


SERENADE. 


i. 

COME,  come  to  me,  love  ! 

Come,  love  !  —  Arise  ! 
And  sliame  the  bright  stars 

With  the  light  of  thine  eyes  ; 
Look  out  from  thy  lattice  — 

Oh  lady-bird,  hear  ! 
A  swan  on  the  water  — 

My  gondola  's  near  ! 

n. 
Come,  come  to  me,  love  ! 

Come,  love  !  —  My  bride  ! 
O'er  crystal  in  moonbeams 

We  '11  tranquilly  glide  : 
In  the  dip  of  the  oar 

A  melody  flows 
Sweet  as  the  nightingale 

Sings  to  the  rose. 


1-10  VENETIAN    SERENADE. 

III. 
Come,  come  to  me,  love ! 

Come,  love! — The  day 
Brings  warder  and  cloister! 

Away,  then  —  away ! 
Oh,  haste  to  thy  lover ; 

Not  yon  star  above 
Is  more  true  to  heaven 

Than  he  to  his  love ! 


THE    TTIIir-PO  0  K-TVILL. 


THE   WHIP-POOR-WILL. 


"  The  plaint  of  the  wailing  Whip-poor-will, 

Who  mourns  unseen,  and  ceaseless  sings 
Ever  a  note  of  wail  and  wo, 

Till  Morning  spreads  her  rosy  wings, 
And  earth  and  sky  in  her  glances  glow." 

J.  R.  DRAKE. 


WHY  dost  them  come  at  set  of  sun, 

Those  pensive  words  to  say  ? 
Why  whip  poor  Will? — What  has  he  done? 

And  who  is  Will,  I  pray  2 

n. 

Why  come  from  yon  leaf-shaded  hill, 

A  suppliant  at  my  door  ?  — 
Why  ask  of  me  to  whip  poor  Will  ? 

And  is  Will  really  poor  ? 


THE    WHIP-POOR-WILL. 


III. 

If  poverty  's  his  crime,  let  mirth 
From  out  his  heart  be  driven  : 

That  is  the  deadliest  sin  on  earth, 
And  never  is  forgiven  ! 


rv. 

Art  "Will  himself? — It  must  be  so  — 

I  learn  it  from  thy  moan, 
For  none  can  feel  another's  wo 

As  deeply  as  his  own. 


v. 

Yet  wherefore  strain  thy  tiny  throat, 
"While  other  birds  repose  ? 

"What  means  thy  melancholy  note? — 
The  mystery  disclose ! 


VI. 

Still  "  "Whip  poor  will !" — Art  thou  a  sprite, 

From  unknown  regions  sent 
To  wander  in  the  gloom  of  night, 

And  ask  for  punishment  ? 


THE    AY  IT  I  P  -  P  O  O  R  -  W  ILL.  1  -|  3 

VII. 

Is  thine  a  conscience  sore  beset 

"With  guilt?  —  or,  what  is  worse, 
Hast  thou  to  meet  writs,  duns  and  debt — 

]S"o  money  in  thy  purse  ? 


Till. 

If  this  be  thy  hard  fate  indeed, 
Ah !  well  may'st  thou  repine : 

The  sympathy  I  give  I  need  — 
The  poet's  doom  is  thine  ! 


IX. 

Art  thou  a  lover,  Will? — Hast  proved 

The  fairest  can  deceive? 
Thine  is  the  lot  of  all  who  Ve  loved 

Since  Adam  wedded  Eve ! 


Hast  trusted  in  a  friend,  and  seen 
~No  friend  was  he  in  need  ? 

A  common  error — men  still  lean 
Upon  as  frail  a  reed. 


144  THE    WHIP-POOR-WILL. 

XL 

Hast  thou,  in  seeking  wealth  or  fame, 
A  crown  of  brambles  won  ? 

O'er  all  the  earth  'tis  just  the  same 
With  every  mother's  son ! 


XII. 

Hast  found  the  world  a  Babel  wide, 
Where  man  to  Mammon  stoops  ?  — 

Where  flourish  Arrogance  and  Pride, 
While  modest  Merit  droops  ? 


XIII. 

What,  none  of  these  ? — Then,  whence  thy  pain  ? 

To  guess  it  who 's  the  skill  ? 
Pray  have  the  kindness  to  explain 

Why  I  should  whip  poor  Will  ? 


XIV. 

Dost  merely  ask  thy  just  desert? 

What,  not  another  word  ?  — 
Back  to  the  woods  again,  unhurt  — 

I  will  not  harm  thee,  bird ! 


T  II  E    W  I!  I  P  -  P  O  0  R  -  W  I  I.  L.  145 


XV. 


But  use  thee  kindly  —  for  my  nerves, 
Like  thine,  have  penance  done  : 

"  Use  every  man  as  he  deserves, 

Who  shall  'scape  whipping?"  —  None! 

XVI. 

Farewell,  poor  "Will ! — ISTot  valueless 

This  lesson  by  thee  given  : 
"Keep  thine  own  counsel,  and  confess 

Thyself  alone  to  Heaven !" 


:   . 


14G  THE    EXILE    TO    HIS    SISTER. 


THE   EXILE   TO    HIS   SISTER. 

i. 

As  streams  at  morn,  from  seas  that  glide, 

Rejoicing  on  their  sparkling  way, 
Will  turn  again  at  eventide, 

To  mingle  with  their  kindred  spray  — 
E'en  so  the  currents  of  the  soul, 

Dear  sister,  wheresoe'er  we  rove, 
Will  backward  to  our  country  roll 

The  boundless  ocean  of  onr  love. 

n. 
Ton  northern  star,  now  burning  bright, 

The  guide  by  which  the  wave-tossed  steer, 
Beams  not  with  a  more  constant  light 

Than  does  thy  love,  my  sister  dear. 
From  stars  above  the  streams  below 

Receive  the  glory  they  impart ; 
So,  sister,  do  thy  virtues  glow 

Within  the  mirror  of  my  heart. 


NEAR    THE    LAKE. 


NEAR   THE   LAKE. 


the  lake  where  drooped  the  willow, 

Long  time  ago!  — 
Where  the  rock  threw  back  the  billow, 

Brighter  than  snow  — 
Dwelt  a  maid,  beloved  and  cherished 

By  high  and  low  ; 
But  with  autumn's  leaf  she  perished, 

Long  time  ago ! 

n. 
Rock  and  tree  and  flowing  water, 

Long  time  ago  !  — 
Bee  and  bird  and  blossom  taught  her 

Love's  spell  to  know  ! 
While  to  my  fond  words  she  listened, 

Murmuring  lowT, 
Tenderly  her  dove-eyes  glistened, 

Long  time  ago ! 


NEAR    THE    LAKE. 


III. 
Mingled  were  our  hearts  for  ever, 

O  * 

Long  time  ago ! 
Can  I  now  forget  her?  —  Never! 

No — lost  one  —  no! 
To  her  grave  these  tears  are  given, 

Ever  to  flow : 
She's  the  star  I  missed  from  heaven, 

Long  time  ago ! 


THE    PASTOR'S    DAUGHTER.  14.9 


THE   PASTOR'S   DAUGHTER. 

i. 
AN  ivy-mantled  cottage  smiled, 

Deep-wooded  near  a  streamlet's  side, 
Where  dwelt  the  village-pastor's  child, 

In  all  her  maiden  bloom  and  pride. 
Proud  suitors  paid  their  court  and  duty 
To  this  romantic  sylvan  beauty  : 
Yet  none  of  all  the  swains  who  sought  her, 
"Was  worthy  of  the  pastor's  daughter. 

ii. 

The  town-gallants  crossed  hill  and  plain, 

To  seek  the  groves  of  her  retreat ; 
And  many  followed  in  her  train, 
To  lay  their  riches  at  her  feet. 
But  still,  for  all  their  arts  so  wary, 
From  home  they  could  not  lure  the  fairy. 
A  maid  without  a  heart  they  thought  her, 
And  so  they  left  the  pastor's  daughter. 


150  THE    PASTOR'S    DAUGHTER. 

III. 

One  balmy  eve  in  dewy  spring 

A  bard  became  her  father's  guest : 
He  struck  his  harp,  and  every  string 

To  love  vibrated  in  her  breast. 
"With  that  true  faith  which  cannot  falter, 
Her  hand  was  given  at  the  altar, 
And  faithful  was  the  heart  he  brought  her 
To  wedlock  and  the  pastor's  daughter. 

IV. 

How  seldom  learn  the  worldly  gay 
With  all  their  sophistry  and  art, 
The  sweet  and  gentle  primrose-way 
To  woman's  fond,  devoted  heart ! 
They  seek,  but  never  find,  the  treasure, 
Revealed  in  eyes  of  jet  and  azure. 
To  them,  like  truth  in  wells  of  water, 
A  fable  is  the  pastor's  daughter. 


MAR  GAR  ETTA. 


MARGARETTA. 

i. 
WHEN  I  was  in  my  teens, 

I  loved  dear  Margaretta : 
I  know  not  what  it  means, 

I  cannot  now  forget  her! 
That  vision  of  the  past 

My  head  is  ever  crazing ; 
Yet,  when  I  saw  her  last, 

I  could  not  speak  for  gazing ! 
Oh,  lingering  rose  of  May ! 

Dear  as  when  first  I  met  her; 
Worn  is  my  heart  alway, 

Life-cherished  Margaretta ! 

n. 
We  parted  near  the  stile, 

As  morn  was  faintly  breaking: 
For  many  a  weary  mile 

Oh  how  my  heart  was  aching ! 


152  MARGARETTA. 

But  distance,  time  and  change, 

Have  lost  me  Margaretta ; 
And  yet  'tis  sadly  strange 

That  I  cannot  forget  her ! 
O  queen  of  rural  maids  — 

My  dark-eyed  Margaretta — 
The  heart  the  mind  upbraids 

That  struggles  to  forget  her ! 

in. 
My  love,  I  know,  will  seem 

A  wayward,  boyish  folly  ; 
But,  ah !  it  was  a  dream 

Most  sweet  —  most  melancholy. 
Were  mine  the  world's  domain, 

To  me  'twere  fortune  better 
To  be  a  boy  again, 

And  dream  of  Margaretta. 
Oh  !  memory  of  the  past, 

Why  linger  to  regret  her? 
My  first  love  was  my  last — 

And  that  is  Margaretta ! 


THE    COLONEL.  153 


THE    COLOXEL. 

i. 

THE  Colonel!  —  Such  a  creature! 

I  met  him  at  the  ball !  — 
So  fair  in  form  and  feature. 

And  so  divinely  tall ! 
lie  praised  my  dimpled  cheeks  and  curls, 

"While  whirling  through  the  dance, 
And  matched  me  with  the  dark-eyed  girls 

Of  Italy  and  France  ! 

n. 
He  said,  in  accents  thrilling — 

"Love's  boundless  as  the  sea; 
And  I,  dear  maid,  am  willing 

To  give  up  all  for  thee !" 
I  heard  him — blushed — "TVould  ask  mamma"- 

And  then  my  eyes  grew  dim ! 
He  looked — I  said,  "Mamma — papa — 

I'd  give  up  all  for  him !" 


154:  THE    COLONEL. 


III. 
My  governor  is  ricli  and  old ; 

This  well  the  Colonel  knew. 
"  Love's  wings,"  he  said,  "  when  fringed  with  gold, 

Are  beautiful  to  view !" 
I  thought  his  'haviour  quite  the  ton, 

Until  I  saw  him  stare 
When  merely  told  that — brother  —  John — • 

Papa — would — make — his — heirl 

rv. 
Next  day  and  the  day  after 

I  dressed  for  him  in  vain  ; 
Was  moved  to  tears  and  laughter  — 

He  never  came  again  ! 
But  I  have  heard,  for  Widow  Dash 

He  bought  the  bridal  ring  ; 
And  he  will  wed  her  for  her  cash — 

The  ugly,  hateful  thing! 


THE    SWEEP'S    CAROL.  155 


THE   SWEEP'S    CAEOL. 


THROUGH  the  streets  of  ]S"ew-York  city, 

Blithely  every  morn, 
I  carolled  o'er  my  artless  ditty, 

Cheerly  though  forlorn ! 
Before  the  rosy  light,  my  lay 

Was  to  the  maids  begun, 
Ere  winter  snows  had  passed  away, 

Or  smiled  the  summer  sun. 

Carol —  O — a — y — e — o ! 

n. 

In  summer  months  I'd  fondly  woo 
Those  merry,  dark-eyed  girls, 

With  faces  of  the  ebon  hue, 

And  teeth  like  eastern  pearls ! 


156  THE    SWEEP'S    CAROL. 

One  vowed  ray  love  slie  would  repay - 
Her  heart  my  song  had  won, 

When  winter  snows  had  passed  away, 
And  smiled  the  summer  sun. 
Carol — O — a — y — e — o  ! 

in. 

A  year,  alas !  had  scarcely  flown — 

Hope  beamed  but  to  deceive  — 
Ere  I  was  left  to  weep  alone, 

From  morn  till  dewy  eve  ! 
She  died  one  dreary  break  of  day  !  — 

Grief  weighs  my  heart  upon!  — 
In  vain  the  snows  may  pass  away, 

Or  smile  the  summer  sun. 

Carol — O — a — y — e — o ! 


THE    SEASONS    OF    LOVE.  151 


THE   SEASONS    OF   LOVE 

i. 

THE  spring-time  of  love 

Is  both  happy  and  gay, 
For  Joy  sprinkles  blossoms 

And  balm  in  our  way  ; 
The  sky,  earth  and  ocean 

In  beauty  repose, 
And  all  the  bright  future 

Is  couleur  de  rose. 

ii. 
The  summer  of  love 

Is  the  bloom  of  the  heart, 
"When  hill,  grove  and  valley 

Their  music  impart ; 
And  the  pure  glow  of  heaven 

Is  seen  in  fond  eyes, 
As  lakes  show  the  rainbow 

That's  hung  in  the  skies. 


158  THE    SEASONS    OF    LOVE. 

III. 

The  autumn  of  love 

Is  the  season  of  cheer — 
Life's  mild  Indian  summer, 

The  smile  of  the  year? 
Which  comes  when  the  golden 

Ripe  harvest  is  stored, 
And  yields  its  own  blessings  — 

Repose  and  reward. 

IV. 

The  winter  of  love 

Is  the  beam  that  we  win 
While  the  storm  scowls  without, 

From  the  sunshine  within. 
Love's  reign  is  eternal  — 

The  heart  is  his  throne, 
And  he  has  all  seasons 

Of  life  for  his  own. 


MY    W  0  0  D  L  A  X  D    B  R  I  D  E.  1 59 


MY  WOODLAND   BRIDE. 

i. 
HERE  upon  the  mountain-side 

Till  now  we  met  together ; 
Here  I  won  my  woodland  bride, 

In  flush  of  summer  weather. 
Green  was  then  the  linden-bough, 

This  dear  retreat  that  shaded  ; 
Autumn  winds  are  round  me  now, 

And  the  leaves  have  faded. 

ii. 

She  whose  heart  was  all  my  own, 

In  this  summer-bower, 
With  all  pleasant  things  has  flown, 

Sunbeam,  bird  and  flower ! 
But  her  memory  wTill  stay 

With  me,  though  we  're  parted  — 
From  the  scene  I  turn  away, 

Lone  and  broken-hearted ! 


160  0  II,    THINK    OF    ME! 


OH,   THINK   OF   ME! 

i. 

OH,  think  of  me,  my  own  beloved, 

Whatever  cares  beset  thee ! 
And  when  thou  hast  the  falsehood  proved, 

Of  those  with  smiles  who  met  thee  — 
While  o'er  the  sea,  think,  love,  of  me, 

Who  never  can  forget  thee ; 
Let  Memory  trace  the  trysting-place, 

Where  I  with  tears  regret  thee. 

n. 

Bright  as  yon  star,  within  my  mind, 

A  hand  unseen  hath  set  thee ; 
There  hath  thine  image  been  enshrined, 

Since  first,  dear  love,  I  met  thee ; 
So  in  thy  breast  I  fain  would  rest, 

If,  haply,  fate  would  let  me — 
And  live  or  die,  wert  thou  but  nigh, 

To  love  or  to  regret  me ! 


11  Y    B  A  II  K    1  S    O  U  T    U  P  0  X    T  II  E    S  E  A.         161 


MY   BAEK   IS    OUT   UPON   THE   SEA, 

i. 
MY  bark  is  out  upon  the  sea  — 

The  moon's  above ; 
Her  light  a  presence  seems  to  me 

Like  woman's  love. 
My  native  land  I've  left  behind  — 

Afar  I  roam ; 
In  other  climes  no  hearts  I'll  find 

Like  those  at  home. 

n. 
Of  all  yon  sisterhood  of  stars, 

But  one  is  true : 
She  paves  my  path  with  silver  bars, 

And  beams  like  you, 
"Whose  purity  the  waves  recall 

In  music's  flow, 
As  round  my  bark  they  rise  and  fall 

In  liquid  snow. 


162         MY    BARK    IS    OUT    UPON    THE    SEA. 

III. 
The  fresli'ning  breeze  now  swells  onr  sails ! 

A  storm  is  on  ! 
The  weary  moon's  dim  lustre  fails  — 

The  stars  are  gone  ! 
Not  so  fades  Love's  eternal  light 

When  storm-clouds  weep ; 
I  know  one  heart's  with  me  to-night 

Upon  the  deep ! 


WILL   NOBODY   MARRY   ME!  163 


WILL  NOBODY   MARRY   ME? 


HEIGH-HO  !  for  a  husband !  —  Heigh-ho ! 

There 's  clanger  in  longer  delay  ! 
Shall  I  never  again  have  a  beau? 

Will  nobod v  marry  me,  pray ! 
I  begin  to  feel  strange,  I  declare ! 

With  beauty  my  prospects  will  fade  — 
I'd  give  myself  up  to  despair 

If  I  thought  I  should  die  an  old  maid ! 

n. 
I  once  cut  the  beaux  in  a  huff — 

I  thought  it  a  sin  and  a  shame 
That  no  one  had  spirit  enough 

To  ask  me  to  alter  my  name. 
So  I  turned  up  my  nose  at  the  short, 

And  cast  down  my  eyes  at  the  tall ; 
But  then  I  just  did  it  in  sport — 

And  now  I  've  no  lover  at  all ! 


161  WILL    NOBODY    MARRY    ME? 

III. 

These  men  are  the  plague  of  my  life : 

'Tis  hard  from  so  many  to  choose ! 
Should  any  one  wish  for  a  wife, 

Could  I  have  the  heart  to  refuse? 
I  don't  know — for  none  have  proposed  — 

Oh,  dear  me! — I'm  frightened,  I  vow! 
Good  gracious !  who  ever  supposed 

That  I  should  be  single  till  now  ? 


THE    STAR    OF    LOVE.  165 


THE   STAE   OF   LOVE. 

i. 
THE  star  of  love  now  shines  above, 

Cool  zephyrs  crisp  the  sea ; 
Among  the  leaves  the  wind-harp  weaves 

Its  serenade  for  thee. 
The  star,  the  breeze,  the  wave,  the  trees, 

Their  minstrelsy  unite, 
But  all  are  drear  till  thou  appear 

To  decorate  the  night. 

IT. 

The  light  of  noon  streams  from  the  moon, 

Though  with  a  milder  ray ; 
O'er  hill  and  grove,  like  woman's  love, 

It  cheers  us  on  our  way. 
Tims  all  that's  bright— the  moon,  the  night, 

The  heavens,  the  earth,  the  sea— 
Exert  their  powers  to  bless  the  hours 

"We  dedicate  to  thee. 


166  WELL-A-DAY! 


WELL-A-DAY! 


LOVE  comes  and  goes  like  a  spell ! 
How,  no  one  knows,  nor  can  tell ! 
Now  here — now  there  —  then  away! 
None  dreameth  where ! — "Well-a-day ! 

n. 

Love  should  be  true  as  the  star 
Seen  in  the  blue  sky  afar !  — 
Not  here — now  here— like  the  lay 
Of  lutes  in  th'  air !— "Well-a-day ! 

m. 

Should  love  depart,  not  a  tie 
Binds  up  the  heart  till  we  die !  — 
Now  here  —  now  there — sad  we  stray! 
Life  is  all  care !  —  Well-a-day ! 


X  0  T    M  A  R  R  I  E  D    Y  L  T !  107 


NOT   MARRIED    YET! 

T. 

I'M  single  yet  —  I'm  single  yet! 

And  years  have  ilown  since  I  came  out! 
In  vain  I  sigh —  in  vain  I  fret  — 

Ye  gods!  what  are  the  men  about? 
I  vow  I'm  twenty  !  —  O  ye  powers! 

A  spinter's  lot  is  hard  to  bear  — 
On  earth  alone  to  pass  her  hours, 

And  afterward  lead  apes  —  down  there! 

IT. 
K"o  offer  yet  —  no  offer  yet! 

I'm  puzzled  quite  to  make  it  out: 
For  every  beau  my  cap  I  set — 

What,  what,  what  are  the  men  about? 
They  don't  propose  —  they  won't  propose, 

For  fear,  perhaps,  I'd  not  say,  "  Yes!" 
Just  let  them  try  —  for  Heaven  knows 

I'm  tired  of  single-blessedness. 


108  NOT    MARRIED    YET! 

III. 
Not  married  yet — not  married  yet — 

The  deuce  is  in  the  men,  I  fear ! 
I'm  like  a  —  something  to  be  let, 

And  to  be  let  alone — that's  clear. 
They  say,  "She's  pretty  —  but  no  chink- 

And  love  without  it  runs  in  debt !" 
It  agitates  my  nerves  to  think 

That  I  have  had  no  offer  yet ! 


LADY    OF    ENGLAND. 


LADY    OF   ENGLAND, 


LADY  OF  ENGLAND  —  o'er  the  seas 
Thy  name  was  borne  on  every  breeze, 
Till  all  this  sunset  clime  became 
Familiar  with  Yictoria's  name. 


n. 

Though  seas  divide  us  many  a  mile, 
Yet,  for  the  Queen  of  that  fair  isle, 
From  which  our  fathers  sprung,  there  roves 
A  blessing  from  this  Land  of  Groves. 


m. 

Our  Fatherland !  —  Fit  theme  for  song ! 
When  thou  art  named,  what  memories  throng ! 
Shall  England  cease  our  love  to  claim  ? 
.Not  while  our  language  is  the  same. 


170  LADY    OF    ENGLAND. 


IV. 


Scion  of  kings !  so  live  and  rei^n, 
That,  when  thy  nation's  swelling  strain 
Is  breathed  amid  our  forests  green, 
"We  too  may  sing,  "  God  save  the  Queen !" 


OH,    THIS    LOVE!  171 


OH,   THIS    LOVE! 

i. 

OH,  this  love  —  this  love  ! 

I  ainse  the  passion  slighted ; 
But  hearts  that  truly  love, 

Must  break  or  be  united. 
Oh,  this  love ! 

n. 

"When  first  lie  cam'  to  woo, 
I  little  cared  aboot  him  ; 

But  scene  I  felt  as  though 
I  could  na'  live  without  him. 
Oh,  this  love ! 

in. 
He  brought  to  me  the  ring, 

My  hand  asked  o'  my  mither- 
I  could  na'  bear  the  thought 
That  he  should  wed  anither. 
Oh,  this  love ! 


172  OH,    THIS    LOVE! 

IV. 

And  now  I'm  a'  his  ain  — 
In  a'  his  joys  I  mingle ; 

Nae  for  the  wealth  of  warlds 

Wad  I  again  be  single  ! 

Oh,  this  love  1 


MARY.  173 


MAEY. 


ONE  balmy  summer  night,  Mary, 

Just  as  the  risen  moon 
Had  cast  aside  her  fleecy  veil, 

We  left  the  gay  saloon ; 
And  in  a  green,  sequestered  spot, 

Beneath  a  drooping  tree, 
Fond  words  were  breathed,  by  you  forgot, 

That  still  are  dear  to  me,  Mary, 
That  still  are  dear  to  me. 


n. 


Oh,  we  were  happy  then,  Mary  — 
Time  lingered  on  his  way, 

To  crowd  a  lifetime  in  a  night, 
"Whole  ages  in  a  day ! 

If  star  and  sun  would  set  and  rise 
Thus  in  our  after-years, 


17  i  MARY. 

The  world  would  be  a  paradise, 

And  not  a  vale  of  tears,  Mary, 
And  not  a  vale  of  tears. 

in. 

I  live  but  in  the  past,  Mary  — 

The  glorious  days  of  old ! 
"When  love  was  hoarded  in  the  heart, 

As  misers  hoard  their  gold : 
And  often  like  a  bridal  train, 

To  music  soft  and  low, 
The  by-gone  moments  cross  my  brain, 

In  all  their  summer  glow,  Mary, 
In  all  their  summer  glow. 

IV. 

These  visions  form  and  fade,  Mary, 

As  age  comes  stealing  on, 
To  bring  the  light  and  leave  the  shade 

Of  days  for  ever  gone  ! 
The  poet's  brow  may  wear  at  last 

The  bays  that  round  it  fall; 
But  love  has  rose-buds  of  the  past 

Far  dearer  than  them  all,  Mary, 
Far  dearer  than  them  all ! 


THE    BEAM    OF    D  E  V  0  T  T  O  X. 


175 


THE   BEAM   OF   DEYOTION. 


I  NEVER  could  find  a  good  reason 

Why  Sorrow  unbidden  should  stay, 
And  all  the  bright  joys  of  life's  season 

Be  driven  unheeded  away. 
Our  cares  would  wake  no  more  emotion, 

Were  we  to  our  lot  but  resigned, 
Than  pebbles  flung  into  the  ocean, 

That  leave  scarce  a  ripple  behind. 

n. 
The  world  has  a  spirit  of  beauty, 

Which  looks  upon  all  for  the  best — 
And  while  it  discharges  its  duty, 

To  Providence  leaves  all  the  rest : 
That  spirit's  the  beam  of  devotion, 

Which  lights  us  through  life  to  its  close, 
And  sets,  like  the  sun  in  the  ocean, 

More  beautiful  far  than  it  rose. 


L_ 


1TG          THE    WELCOME    AND    FAREWELL. 


THE   WELCOME   A^D   FAEEWELL. 

i. 
To  meet  and  part,  as  we  have  met  and  parted, 

One  moment  cherished  and  the  next  forgot, 
To  wear  a  smile  when  almost  broken-hearted, 

I  know  full  well  is  hapless  woman's  lot ; 
Yet  let  me,  to  thy  tenderness  appealing, 

Avert  this  brief  but  melancholy  doom — • 
Content  that  close  beside  the  thorn  of  feeling, 

Grows  memory,  like  a  rose,  in  guarded  bloom. 

n. 

Love's  history,  dearest,  is  a  sad  one  ever, 

Yet  often  with  a  smile  I've  heard  it  told! 
Oh,  there  are  records  of  the  heart  which  never 

Are  to  the  scrutinizing  gaze  unrolled ! 
Mine  eye  to  thine  may  scarce  again  aspire  — 

Still  in  thy  memory,  dearest,  let  me  dwell, 
And  hush,  with  this  hope,  the  magnetic  wire, 

Wild  with  our  mingled  welcome  and  farewell ! 


TIS    NOW    THE    PROMISED    HOUR.          177 


TIS   NOW   THE   PROMISED   HOUR 

A     SERENADE. 
I. 

THE  fountains  serenade  the  flowers, 

Upon  their  silver  lute  — 
And,  nestled  in  their  leafy  bowers, 

The  forest-birds  are  mute  : 
The  bright  and  glittering  hosts  above 

Unbar  their  golden  gates, 
While  Nature  holds  her  court  of  love, 

And  for  her  client  waits. 
Then,  lady,  wake  —  in  beauty  rise! 

Tis  now  the  promised  hour, 
When  torches  kindle  in  the  skies 

To  light  thee  to  thy  bower. 

u. 
The  day  we  dedicate  to  care  — 

To  love  the  witching  night ; 
For  all  that's  beautiful  and  fair 

In  hours  like  these  unite. 


. 


178  TIS    NOW    THE    PROMISED    HOUR. 

E'en  thus  the  sweets  to  flowerets  given  — 

The  moonlight  on  the  tree  — 
And  all  the  bliss  of  earth  and  heaven  — 

Are  mingled,  love,  in  thee. 
Then,  lady,  wake  —  in  beauty  rise ! 

'Tis  now  the  promised  hour, 
"When  torches  kindle  in  the  skies 

To  light  thee  to  thy  bower ! 


THE    SONGS    OF    HOME.  179 


THE   SONGS   OF   HOME. 


OH,  sing  once  more  those  dear,  familiar  lays, 

"Whose  gliding  measure  every  bosoin  thrills, 
And  takes  my  heart  back  to  the  happy  days 

When  first  I  sung  them  on  my  native  hills ! 
With  the  fresh  feelings  of  the  olden  times, 

I  hear  them  now  upon  a  foreign  shore  — 
The  simple  music  and  the  artless  rhymes ! 

Oh,  sing  those  dear,  familiar  lays  once  more, 
Those  cheerful  lays  of  other  days  — 

Oh,  sing  those  cheerful  lays  once  more ! 

n. 

Oh,  sing  once  more  those  joy-provoking  strains, 
Which,  half  forgotten,  in  my  memory  dwell ; 

They  send  the  life-blood  bounding  through  my  veins, 
And  linger  round  me  like  a  fairy  spell. 


180  THE    SONGS    OF    HOME. 

The  songs  of  liorne  are  to  the  human  heart 

Far  dearer  than  the  notes  that  song-birds  pour, 

And  of  our  very  nature  form  a  part : 

Then  sing  those  dear,  familiar  lays  once  more ! 

Those  cheerful  lays  of  other  days — • 
Oh,  sing  those  cheerful  lays  once  more ! 


MASONIC    HYMN.  181 


MASONIC   HYMN. 


OUK  Order,  like  the  ark  of  yore, 
Upon  the  raging  sea  was  tossed ; 

Secure  amid  the  billow's  roar, 

It  moved,  and  nothing  has  been  lost. 


n. 


"When  elements  discordant  seek 
To  wreck  what  God  in  mercy  saves, 

The  struggle  is  as  vain  and  weak 
As  that  of  the  retiring  waves. 


in. 


The  Power  who  bade  the  waters  cease, 
The  Pilot  of  the  Pilgrim  Band, 

He  gave  the  gentle  dove  of  peace 

The  branch  she  bore  them  from  the  land. 


182  MASONIC    HYMN. 

IV. 

In  Him  alone  we  put  our  trust, 

With  heart  and  hand  and  one  accord, 

Ascribing,  with  the  true  and  just, 
All  "  holiness  unto  the  Lord." 


THE    DISMISSED. 


THE   DISMISSED. 


11 1  suppose  she  was  right  in  rejecting  my  suit, 
But  why  did  she  kick  me  down  stairs  V 

HALLECK'S  "  Discarded." 


THE  wing  of  my  spirit  is  broken, 

My  day-star  of  hope  has  declined  ; 
For  a  month  not  a  word  have  I  spoken 

That's  either  polite  or  refined. 
My  mind's  like  the  sky  in  bad  weather, 

When  mist-clouds  around  us  are  curled 
And,  viewing  myself  altogether, 

I  'm  the  veriest  wretch  in  the  world ! 


n. 

I  wander  about  like  a  vagrant  — 

• 

I  spend  half  my  time  in  the  street ; 
My  conduct's  improper  and  flagrant, 
For  I  quarrel  with  all  that  I  meet. 


184:  THE    DISMISSED. 

My  dress,  too,  is  wholly  neglected, 
My  hat  I  pull  over  my  brow, 

And  I  look  like  a  fellow  suspected 
Of  wishing  to  kick  up  a  row. 


in. 

In  vain  I've  endeavoured  to  borrow 

•  From  friends  "some  material  aid"  — 
For  my  landlady  views  me  with  sorrow, 

When  she  thinks  of  the  bill  that's  unpaid. 
Abroad  my  acquaintances  flout  me, 

The  ladies  cry,  "  Bless  us,  look  there !" 
And  the  little  boys  cluster  about  me, 

And  sensible  citizens  stare. 


IV. 

One  says,  "He's  a  victim  to  Cupid;" 

Another,  "His  conduct's  too  bad;" 
A  third,  "He  is  awfully  stupid;" 

A  fourth,  "  He  is  perfectly  mad !"  — 
And  then  I  am  watched  like  a  bandit, 

Mankind  with  me  all  are  at  strife : 
By  Heaven,  no  longer  I'll  stand  it, 

But  quick  put  an  end  to  my  life ! 


THE    DISMISSED.  185 


V. 

I've  thought  of  the  means — yet  I  shudder 

At  dagger  or  ratsbane  or  rope  ; 
At  drawing  with  lancet  my  blood,  or 

At  razor  without  any  soap ! 
Suppose  I  should  fall  in  a  duel, 

And  thus  leave  the  stage  with  eclat  f 
But  to  die  with  a  bullet  is  cruel  — 

Besides,  't  would  be  breaking  the  law ! 


VI. 

Yet  one  way  remains :  to  the  river 

I'll  fly  from  the  goadings  of  care !  — 
But  drown?  —  oh!  the  thought  makes  me  shiver- 

A  terrible  death,  I  declare  ! 
Ah,  no !  —  I'll  once  more  see  my  Kitty, 

And  parry  her  cruel  disdain  — 
Beseech  her  to  take  me  in  pity, 

And  never  dismiss  me  again. 


186  LORD    OF    THE    CASTLE. 


LORD  OF  THE   CASTLE. 


"  LOED  of  the  castle !  oh,  where  goest  thou  ? 
Why  is  the  triumph  of  pride  on  thy  brow  ?"  • 
"  Pilgrim,  my  bridal  awaits  me  to-day, 
Over  the  mountains  away  and  away." 


n. 


"  Flora  in  beauty  and  solitude  roves, 
List'ning  for  thee  in  the  shade  of  the  groves." 
"  Pilgrim,  I  hasten  her  truth  to  repay, 
Over  the  mountains  away  and  away." 


in. 


"  Guided  by  honour,  how  brilliant  the  road 
Leading  from  cottage  to  castle  abode  1" 
"  Pilgrim,  its  dictates  I  learned  to  obey, 
Over  the  mountains  away  and  away." 


THE    FALLEN    BRAVE.  187 


THE   FALLEN   BEAVE. 

i. 

FROM  cypress  and  from  laurel  boughs 

Are  twined,  in  sorrow  and  in  pride, 
The  leaves  that  deck  the  mouldering  brows 

Of  those  who  for  their  country  died  : 
In  sorrow,  that  the  sable  pall 

Enfolds  the  valiant  and  the  brave ; 
In  pride,  that  those  who  nobly  fall 

"Win  garlands  that  adorn  the  grave. 

ii. 

The  onset — the  pursuit — the  roar 

Of  victory  o'er  the  routed  foe  — 
Will  startle  from  their  rest  no  more 

The  fallen  brave  of  Mexico. 
To  God  alone  such  spirits  yield ! 

He  took  them  in  their  strength  and  bloom, 
When  gathering,  on  the  tented  field, 

The  garlands  woven  for  the  tomb. 


188  THE    FALLEN    BRAVE. 

III. 
The  shrouded  flag  —  the  drooping  spear — 

The  muffled  drum  —  the  solemn  bell  — 
The  funeral  train  —  the  dirge  —  the  bier — 

The  mourners'  sad  and  last  farewell — • 
Are  fading  tributes  to  the  worth 

Of  those  whose  deeds  this  homage  claim ; 
But  Time,  who  mingles  them  with  earth 

Keeps  green  the  garlands  of  their  fame. 


SO  KG    OF   THE   TROUBADOUR.  ISO 


SONG   OF   THE   TROUBADOUR. 


IN  IMITATION  OF  THE  LAYS  OF  THE  OLDEN  TIME. 


"  COME,  list  to  the  lay  of  the  olden  time," 
A  troubadour  sung  on  a  moonlit  stream : 

"The  scene  is  laid  in  a  foreign  clime, 

"A  century  back  —  and  love  is  the  theme." 

Love  was  the  theme  of  the  troubadour's  rhyme, 

Of  lady  and  lord  of  the  olden  time. 


n. 

"  At  an  iron-barred  turret,  a  lady  fair 

"  Knelt  at  the  close  of  the  vesper-chime  : 
"  Her  beads  she  numbered  in  silent  prayer 

"For  one  far  away,  whom  to  love  was  her  crime. 
"Love,"  sung  the  troubadour,  "love  was  a  crime, 
"When  fathers  were  stern,  in  the  olden  time. 


190  SONG    OF    THE   TROUBADOUR. 

III. 

"  The  warder  had  spurned  from  the  castle-gate 

"The  minstrel  who  wooed  her  in  flowing  rhyme  — 

"  lie  came  back  from  battle  in  regal  estate  — 
"  The  bard  was  a  prince  of  the  olden  time. 

"Love,"  sung  the  troubadour,  "listened  to  rhyme, 

"  And  welcomed  the  bard   of  the  olden  time. 

IF. 

"The  prince  in  disguise  had  the  lady  sought; 

"  To  chapel  they  hied  in  their  rosy  prime : 
"  Thus  worth  won  a  jewel  that  wealth  never  bought, 

"  A  fair  lady's  heart  of  the  olden  time. 
"The  moral,"  the  troubadour  sung,  "  of  my  rhyme, 
"  Was  well  understood  in  the  olden  time." 


CHAMPIONS    OF    LIBERTY.  1!>1 


CHAMPIONS   OF   LIBEETY. 


THE  pride  of  all  our  chivalry, 
The  name  of  "Worth  will  stand, 

"While  throbs  the  pulse  of  liberty 
"Within  his  native  land : 

The  wreath  his  brow  was  formed  to  wear, 

A  nation's  tears  will  freshen  there. 


n. 

The  young  companion  of  his  fame, 

In  war  and  peace  allied, 
"With  garlands  woven  round  his  name, 

Reposes  at  his  side : 
Duncan,  whose  deeds  for  evermore 
Will  live  amid  his  cannon's  roar. 


102  CHAMPIONS    OF    LIBERTY, 

III. 

* 

Gates,  in  his  country's  quarrel  bold, 
When  she  to  arras  appealed, 

Sought,  like  the  Christian  knights  of  old, 
His  laurels  on  the  field : 

Where  victory  rent  the  welkin-dome, 

He  earned — a  sepulchre  at  home. 


IV. 

The  drum-beat  of  the  bannered  brave, 
The  requiem  and  the  knell, 

The  volley  o'er  the  soldier's  grave, 
His  comrades'  last  farewell, 

Are  tributes  rendered  to  the  dead, 

And  sermons  to  the  living  read. 


y. 

But  there 's  a  glory  brighter  far 
Than  all  that  earth  has  given  ; 

A  beacon,  like  the  index-star, 
That  points  the  way  to  heaven : 

It  is  a  life  well  spent — its  close 

The  cloudless  sundown  of  repose. 


CHAMPIONS    OF    LIEERTY.  193 


That  sucli  was  theirs  for  whom  we  mourn, 

These  obsequies  attest ; 
And  though  in  sorrow  they  are  borne 

Unto  their  final  rest, 
A  guide  will  their  example  be 
To  future  champions  of  the  free. 


19-t  THE    IIUXTER'S    CAROL. 


THE   HUNTER'S    CAROL. 

i. 

A  MEEEY  life  does  the  hunter  lead ! 

He  wakes  with  the  dawn  of  day ; 
He  whistles  his  dog  —  he  mounts  his  steed, 

And  sends  to  the  woods  away  ! 
The  lightsome  tramp  of  the  deer  he  '11  mark, 

As  they  troop  in  herds  along ; 
And  his  rifle  startles  the  cheerful  lark 

As  he  carols  his  morning  song ! 

n. 

The  hunter's  life  is  the  life  for  me !  — 

That  is  the  life  for  a  man ! 
Let  others  sing  of  a  home  on  the  sea, 

But  match  me  the  woods  if  you  can  ! 
Then  give  me  a  gun  —  I've  an  eye  to  mark 

The  deer  as  they  bound  along !  — 
My  steed,  dog  and  gun,  and  the  cheerful  lark 

To  carol  my  morning  song ! 


WASHINGTON'S    MONUMENT.  105 


WASHINGTON'S   MOXUMEXT. 


A  MONUMENT  to  Washington? 

A  tablet  graven  with  his  name?  — 
Green  be  the  mound  it  stands  upon, 

And  everlasting  as  his  fame  ! 

n. 

His  glory  fills  the  land  —  the  plain, 
The  moor,  the  mountain  and  the  mart ! 

More  firm  than  column,  urn  or  fane, 
His  monument — the  human  heart. 


nr. 

The  Christian — patriot — hero  —  sage ! 

The  chief  from  heaven  in  mercy  sent ; 
His  deeds  are  written  on  the  age  — 

His  country  is  his  monument. 


190  WASHINGTON'S    MONUMENT. 

IV. 

"  The  sword  of  Gideon  and  the  Lord" 
Was  mighty  in  his  mighty  hand — • 

The  God  who  guided  he  adored, 

And  with  His  blessing  freed  the  land. 

y. 

The  first  in  war  —  the  first  in  peace  — 
The  first  in  hearts  that  freemen  own ; 

Unparalleled  till  time  shall  cease  — 
He  live& — immortal  and  alone. 

VI. 

Yet  let  the  rock-hewn  tower  arise, 
High  to  the  pathway  of  the  sun, 

And  speak  to  the  approving  skies 
Our  gratitude  to  Washington. 


THE    SISTER'S    APPEAL.  197 


THE   SISTER'S    APPEAL. 

A     FRAGMENT. 

********** 
I. 

You  remember  —  don't  you,  brother  — 

In  our  earlj^  years, 
The  counsels  of  our  poor,  dear  mother, 

And  her  hopes  and  fears  ? 
She  told  us  to  love  one  another — 

Brother,  dry  your  tears ! 

ir. 
We  are  only  two,  dear  brother, 

In  this  babel  wide ! 
In  the  churchyard  sleeps  poor  mother, 

By  our  father's  side !  — 
Then  let  us  cherish  one  another 

Till  in  death  we  bide. 
********** 


198  SONG    OF    THE    REAPERS. 


SONG    OF   THE   REAPERS. 


JOYOUS  the  carol  that  rings  in  the  mountains, 
"While  the  cleared  vales  are  refreshed  by  the  fountains- 
After  the  harvest  the  cheerful  notes  fall, 
And  all  the  glad  reapers  re-echo  the  call ! 
La  ra  la  la,  &c. 


ii. 


Oh,  how  the  heart  bounds  at  that  simple  refrain ! 
Dear  haunts  of  my  childhood,  I'm  with  you  again! 
Green  be  your  valleys,  enriched  by  the  rills, 
And  long  may  that  carol  be  sung  on  your  hills ! 
La  ra  la  la,  &c. 


A  LTE  R    G  A  Y. 


WALTER   GAY. 

i. 
To  know  a  man  well,  it  is  said,  Walter  Gay, 

On  shipboard  with  him  yon  should  be : 
If  this  maxim 's  true,  then  well  I  know  you, 
For  we  sailed  together  the  sea,  "Walter  Gay, 
For  we  sailed  together  the  sea. 

IT. 
I  now  watch  the  star  from  the  strand,  Walter  Gay, 

As  oft  from  the  surge  I  did  then : 
Like  that  all  alone  you  sparkled  and  shone, 

The  clear  northern  star  among  men,  Walter  Gay, 
The  clear  northern  star  among  men ! 

in. 
May  your  future  course,  like  the  past,  "Walter  Gay, 

From  wreck  and  misfortune  be  free: 
Your  sorrows  and  care  fade  into  the  air, 

Or  vanish  like  foam  on  the  sea,  "Walter  Gay, 
Or  vanish  like  foam  on  the  sea ! 


200  WALTER    GAY. 


IV. 
The  friendship  that's  formed  on  the  wave,  Walter  Gay, 

Is  deeper  than  plummet  may  sound  : 
That  cannot  decay  till  we  lose  our  way, 

Or  death  runs  the  vessel  aground,  Walter  Gay, 
Or  death  runs  the  vessel  aground ! 

v. 
When  life's  voyage  ends,  may  your  bark,  Walter  Gay, 

Spread  sail  like  the  wings  of  a  dove  — 
And,  when  lulls  the  wind,  safe  anchorage  find 
Within  the  good  haven  above,  Walter  Gay, 
Within  the  good  haven  above  1 


0  II  0  I'  X  I)  S    F  0  II    D  I  V  0  U  C  E.  201 


GROUNDS   FOR   DIVORCE, 
i. 

HE. 

WHAT  can  a  man  do  when  a  woman 's  perverse. 
And  determined  to  have  her  own  way  ? 

s  H  E. 

At  the  altar  you  took  me  for  better  or  worse : 
Am  I  worse  than  you  took  me  for  —  say, 

Silly  elf?  — 
Am  I  worse  than  you  took  me  for,  say  ? 

ii. 

HE. 

For  an  angel  I  took  you  in  beauty  and  worth — 
The  priest  a  mere  woman  has  given ! 

SHE. 

A  man  would  prefer  a  true  woman  on  earth, 
To  all  the  bright  angels  in  heaven  — 

Silly  elf!  — 
To  all  the  bright  angels  in  heaven ! 


202        GROUNDS  FOR  DIVORCE. 

III. 
HE. 

You  ever  are  ready  my  feelings  to  hurt 
At  the  veriest  trifle,  of  course. 

SHE. 

Forgetting  a  button  to  sew  on  your  shirt 
You  deem  a  good  ground  for  divorce  — 

Silly  elf! - 
You  deem  a  good  ground  for  divorce ! 

IV. 

HE. 

Well,  marriage  a  lottery  is,  and  a  blank 
Some  men  surely  draw  all  their  lives. 

SHE. 

Such  fellows  as  you,  sir,  themselves  have  to  thank 
Good  husbands  make  always  good  wives  — 

Silly  elf! - 
Good  husbands  make  always  good  wives  ! 


TEMPERANCE    S  0  X  G.  203 


TEMPERANCE    SONG. 
(WRITTEN  FOK  THE  LADY  BY  WHOM  IT  WAS  SUNG.) 

AIR  —  "Some  lone  to  roam." 
I. 

SOME  love  to  stroll  where  the  wassail-bowl 

And  the  wine-cups  circle  free ; 
None  of  that  band  shall  win  my  hand : 

No  !  a  sober  spouse  for  me. 
Like  cheerful  streams  when  morning  beams, 

"With  him  my  life  would  flow  ; 
Not  down  the  crags,  the  drunkard  drags 

His  wife  to  want  and  wo ! 
Oh  !  no,  no,  no  !  —  oh !  no,  no,  no  ! 

ii. 

At  midnight  dark,  the  drunkard  mark  — 

Oh,  what  a  sight,  good  lack ! 
As  home  draws  near,  to  him  appear 

Grim  fiends  who  cross  his  track ! 


204  TEMPERANCE    SONG. 

His  children's  name  he  dooms  to  shame 
His  wife  to  want  and  wo ; 

She  is  betrayed,  for  wine  is  made 

Her  rival  and  her  foe. 
Oh !  no,  no,  no !  —  oh !  no,  no,  no  ! 


BOAT-SONG.  20; 


BOAT-SONG. 


PULL  away  merrily  —  over  the  waters! 

Tug  to  your  oars  for  the  wood-tangled  shore ; 
We're  off  and  afloat  with  earth's  loveliest  daughters, 

Worth  all  the  argosies  wave  ever  bore. 
Pull  away  gallantly  — pull  away  valiantly - 

Pull  with  a  swoop,  boys  ;  and  pull  for  the  shore  : 
Merrily,  merrily,  bend  to  the  oar ! 


n. 


Pull  away  cheerily ! — land  is  before  us  — 

Green  groves  are  flinging  their  balm  to  the  spray; 

The  sky,  like  the  spirit  of  love,  bending  o'er  us, 
Lights  her  bright  torches  to  show  ns  the  way. 

Pull  away  charily— pull  away  warily  - 

Pull  with  a  nerve,  boys ;  together  give  way : 
Merrily,  merrily,  pull  to  the  lay ! 


206  BOAT-SONG. 


III. 


Pull  away  heartily — light  winds  arc  blowing, 
Crisping  the  ripples  that  dance  at  our  side  ; 

The  moon  bathes  in  silver  the  path  we  are  going, 
And  Night  is  arrayed  in  her  robes  like  a  bride. 

Pull  away  readily  —  pull  away  steadily  — 
Pull  with  a  will,  boys,  and  sing  as  we  glide 
Merrily,  merrily,  over  the  tide  ! 


MILLIE.  207 


WILLIE. 


I  CLASP  your  hand  in  mine,  Willie, 

And  fancy  I've  the  art 
To  see,  while  gazing  in  your  face, 

What's  passing  in  your  heart: 
*Tis  joy  an  honest  man  to  hold, 

That  gem  of  modest  worth, 
More  prized  than  all  the  sordid  gold 

Of  all  the  mines  of  earth,  Willie, 
Of  all  the  mines  of  earth. 


n. 

I've  marked  your  love  of  right,  Willie, 
Your  proud  disdain  of  wrong ; 

I  know  you'd  rather  aid  the  weak 
Than  battle  for  the  strong. 


208  WILLIE. 

The  golden  rule  —  religion's  stay  — 
"With  constancy  pursue, 

Which  renders  others  all  that  they 
On  earth  can  render  you,  Willie, 
On  earth  can  render  you. 


in. 

A  conscience  void  of  guile,  Willie, 

A  disposition  kind, 
A  nature,  gentle  and  sincere, 

Accomplished  and  refined : 
A  mind  that  was  not  formed  to  bow, 

An  aspiration  high, 
Are  written  on  your  calm,  clear  brow, 

And  in  your  cheerful  eye,  Willie, 
And  in  your  cheerful  eye. 


IT. 


I  never  look  at  you,  Willie, 
But  with  an  anxious  prayer 

That  you  will  ever  be  to  me 
What  now  I  know  you  are. 


V  I  L  L  I  E.  209 

I  do  not  find  ii  fault  to  cliiJe, 

A  foible  to  annoy, 
For  you  are  all  your  father's  pride, 

And  all  your  mothers  joy,  Willie, 
And  all  your  mother's  joy. 


Y. 

You're  all  that  I  could  hope,  Willie, 

And  more  than  I  deserve  ; 
Your  pressure  of  affection  now 

I  feel  in  every  nerve. 
I  love  you  —  not  for  station  —  land  — 

But  for  yourself  alone  : 
And  this  is  why  I  clasp  your  hand, 

So  fondly  in  my  own,  Willie, 
So  fondly  in  my  own. 


210  THE    HOCK    OF    THE    T  I  L  G  R  I  M  S. 


THE   KOCK   OF   THE   PILGEIMS. 

i. 
A  KOCK  in  the  wilderness  welcomed  our  sires, 

From  bondage  far  over  the  dark-rolling  sea ; 
On  that  holy  altar  they  kindled  the  fires, 

Jehovah,  which  glow  in  our  bosoms  for  Thee. 
Thy  blessings  descended  in  sunshine  and  shower, 

Or  rose  from  the  soil  that  was  sown  by  Thy  hand ; 
The  mountain  and  valley  rejoiced  in  Thy  power, 

And  Heaven  encircled  and  smiled  on  the  land. 

n. 

The  Pilgrims  of  old  an  example  have  given 

Of  mild  resignation,  devotion  and  love, 
Which  beams  like  the  star  in  the  blue  vault  of  heaven, 

A  beacon-light  swung  in  their  mansion  above. 
In  church  and  cathedral  we  kneel  in  our  prayer — 

Their  temple  and  chapel  were  valley  and  hill — 
But  God  is  the  same  in  the  aisle  or  the  air, 

And  He  is  the  Kock  that  we  lean  upon  still. 


Y  EARS    A  O  0.  211 


YEAES   AGO. 


NEAK  the  banks  of  that  lone  river, 
Where  the  water-lilies  grow, 

Breathed  the  fairest  flower  that  ever 
Bloomed  and  faded  years  ago. 

n. 

How  we  met  and  loved  and  parted, 
None  on  earth  can  ever  know  — 

Nor  how  pure  and  gentle-hearted 
Beamed  the  mourned  one  years  ago ! 

n. 

Like  the  stream  with  lilies  laden, 
Will  life's  future  current  flow, 

Till  in  heaven  I  meet  the  maiden 
Fondly  cherished  years  ago. 


212  YEARS    AGO. 


Hearts  that  love  like  mine  forget  not ; 

They  're  the  same  in  weal  or  wo ; 
And  that  star  of  memory  set  not 

In  the  grave  of  years  ago. 


THE    SOLDIER'S    WELCOME    HOME.         213 


THE   SOLDIER'S   WELCOME   HOME. 

(WRITTEN  UPON  THE  RETURN  OF  GENERAL  SCOTT  FROM  HIS 
BRILLIANT  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN.) 


VICTORIOUS  the  hero  returns  from  the  wars, 

His  brow  bound  with  laurels  that  never  will  fade, 
While  streams  the  free  standard  of  stripes  and  of  stars, 

Whose  field  in  the  battle  the  foeman  dismayed. 
When  the  Mexican  hosts  in  their  fury  came  on, 

Like  a  tower  of  strength  in  his  might  he  arose ; 
Where  danger  most  threatened  his  banner  was  borne, 

Waving  hope  to  his  friends  and  despair  to  his  foes ! 

n. 

The  soldier  of  honour  and  liberty  hail ! 

His  deeds  in  the  temple  of  Fame  are  enrolled ; 
His  precepts,  like  flower-seeds  sown  by  the  gale, 

Take  root  in  the  hearts  of  the  valiant  and  bold. 


214:    THE  SOLDIER'S  WELCOME  HOME. 

The  warrior's  escutcheon  his  foes  seek  to  blot, 
But  vain  is  the  effort  of  partisan  bands  — 

For  freemen  will  render  full  justice  to  SCOTT, 

And  welcome  him  home  with  their  hearts  in  their  hands. 


THE    GUI  G  IX    OF    Y  A  X  K  E  E    I)  0  0  D  L  E.       215 


THE    OBIGIN   OF   YAXKEE   DOODLE, 


ONCE  on  a  time  old  JOHNNY  BULL 

Flew  in  a  raging  fury, 
And  swore  that  JONATHAN  should  have 

No  trials,  sir,  by  jury  ; 
That  no  elections  should  be  held 

Across  the  briny  waters : 
"And  now,"  said  he,  "I'll  tax  the  tea 

Of  all  his  sons  and  daughters." 
Then  down  he  sate  in  burly  state, 

And  blustered  like  a  grandee, 
And  in  derision  made  a  tune 

Called  "  Yankee  doodle  dandy." 
"Yankee  doodle"  —  these  are  facts  — 

"  Yankee  doodle  dandy ; 
My  son  of  wax,  your  tea  I  '11  tax  — 

You  —  Yankee  doodle  dandy!" 


216        THE    O  11  1  G  I  N    OF    YANKEE    DOODLE. 

II. 

John  sent  the  tea  from  o'er  the  sea 

"With  heavy  duties  rated ; 
But  whether  hyson  or  bohea, 

I  never  heard  it  stated. 
Then  Jonathan  to  pout  began  — 

He  laid  a  strong  embargo  — 
"I'll  drink  no  tea,  by  Jove!"  —  so  he 

Threw  overboard  the  cargo. 
Next  Johnny  sent  an  armament, 

Big  looks  and  words  to  bandy, 
Whose  martial  band,  when  near  the  land, 

Played  —  "Yankee  doodle  dandy." 
"Yankee  doodle — keep  it  up ! 

Yankee  doodle  dandy ! 
I'll  poison  with  a  tax  your  cup  — 

You — Yankee  doodle  dandy!" 


ra. 

A  long  war  then  they  had,  in  which 
John  was  at  last  defeated ; 

And  "  Yankee  doodle"  was  the  march 
To  which  his  troops  retreated. 

Young  Jonathan,  to  see  them  fly, 
Could  not  restrain  his  laughter : 


THE    ORIGIN    OF    YANKEE    DOODLE.       217 

"That  tune,''  said  lie,  "  suits  to  a  T, 

I'll  sing  it  ever  after!" 
Old  Johnny's  face,  to  his  disgrace, 

Was  flushed  with  beer  and  brandy, 
E'en  while  he  swore  to  sing  no  more 

This  — "Yankee  doodle  dandy." 
Yankee  doodle  —  ho!  ha!  he! 

Yankee  doodle  dandy  — 
We  kept  the  tune,  but  not  the  tea, 

Yankee  doodle  dandy ! 


IV. 


I've  told  you  now  the  origin 

Of  this  most  lively  ditty, 
"Which  Johnny  Bull  pronounces  "  dull 

And  silly !" — what  a  pity  ! 
With  "  Hail  Columbia !"  it  is  sung, 

In  chorus  full  and  hearty  — 
On  land  and  main  we  breathe  the  strain, 

John  made  for  his  tea-party. 
No  matter  how  we  rhyme  the  words, 

The  music  speaks  them  handy, 
And  where 's  the  fair  can't  sing  the  air 

Of  "Yankee  doodle  dandy!" 


218        THE    0  RIG  IX    OF    YANKEE    DOODLE. 

"  Yankee  doodle  —  firm  and  true  — 

Yankee  doodle  dandy, 
Yankee  doodle,  doodle  doo ! 

Yankee  doodle  dandy !" 


LINKS.  210 


LIXES 


OX   THE   BUKIAL    OF    MRS.    MARY    L.    WARD,    AT    DALE   CEME- 
TERY,   SIXG-SIXG,    MAY    3,    1S53. 


THE  knell  was  tolled  —  the  requiem  sung, 
The  solemn  burial-service  read  ; 

And  tributes  from  the  heart  and  tongue 
Were  rendered  to  the  dead. 

u. 

The  dead  ? — Religion  answers,  "No! 

She  is  not  dead  —  she  cannot  die  ! 
A  Christian  left  this  vale  of  wo  !  — 

An  angel  lives  on  high  !" 

m. 

The  earth  upon  her  coffin-lid 
Sounded  a  hollow,  harsh  adieu  ! 

The  mound  arose,  and  she  was  hid 
For  ever  from  the  view ! 


220  LINKS. 


For  ever?  —  Drearily  the  thought 

Passed,  like  an  ice-bolt,  through  the  brain ; 

"When  Faith  the  recollection  brought 
That  we  shall  meet  again. 

v. 

The  mourners  wound  their  silent  way 
Adown  the  mountain's  gentle  slope, 

"Which,  basking  in  the  smile  of  May, 
Looked  cheerfully  as  hope. 

VI. 

As  hope? — What  hope? — That  boundless  One 
God  in  His  love  and  mercy  gave ; 

Which  brightens,  with  salvation's  sun, 
The  darkness  of  the  grave. 


X  E  W  -  Y  0  R  K    IX    1826. 


NEW-YOEK   IN   1826. 

(ADDRESS  OF  THE  CARRIER  OF  THE  XEW-YORK:  MIRROR,  ON 
THE  FIRST  DAY  OF  THAT  YEAR.) 

AIR  —  "Songs  of  Shepherds  in  Rustical  Roundelays." 


Two  years  have  elapsed  since  the  verse  of  s.  W. 

Met  jour  bright  eyes  like  a  fanciful  gem ; 
"With  that  kind  of  stanza  the  muse  will  now  trouble  you, 

She  often  frolics  with  one  G.  P.  u. 
As  New  Year  approaches,  she  whispers  of  coaches, 

And  lockets  and  broaches,  without  any  end, 
Of  sweet  rosy  pleasure,  of  joy  without  measure, 

And  plenty  of  leisure  to  share  with  a  friend. 

n. 

'Tis  useless  to  speak  of  the  griefs  of  society — 

They  overtake  us  in  passing  along ; 
And  public  misfortunes,  in  all  their  variety, 

Need  not  be  told  in  a  holidav  song. 


222  NEW-YORK    IX    1826. 

The  troubles  of  Wall-street,  I'm  sure  that  you  all  meet. 
And  they're  not  at  all  sweet  —  but  look  at  their  pranks 

Usurious  cravings,  and  discounts  and  shavings. 
With  maniac  ravings  and  Lombardy  banks. 


in. 

'Tis  useless  to  speak  of  our  dealers  in  cotton  too, 

Profits  and  losses  but  burden  the  lay ; 
The  failure  of  merchants  should  now  be  forgotten  too, 

Nor  sadden  the  prospects  of  this  festive  day. 
Though  Fortune  has  cheated  the  hope  near  completed, 

And  cruelly  treated  the  world  mercantile, 
The  poet's  distresses,  when  Fortune  oppresses, 

Are  greater,  he  guesses  —  but  still  he  can  smile. 


rv. 

'Tis  useless  to  speak  of  the  gas-light  so  beautiful, 

Shedding  its  beams  through  "  the  mist  of  the  night ;" 
Eagles  and  tigers  and  elephants,  dutiful, 

Dazzle  the  vision  with  columns  of  light. 
The  lamb  and  the  lion  —  ask  editor  Tryon, 

His  word  you'll  rely  on  —  are  seen  near  the  Park, 
From  which  such  lights  flow  out,  as  wind  cannot  blow  out, 

Yet  often  they  go  out,  and  all's  in  the  dark. 


223 


'Tis  useless  to  speak  of  the  seats  on  the  Battery, 

They're  too  expensive  to  give  to  the  town; 
Then  our  aldermen  think  it  such  flattery, 

If  the  public  have  leave  to  sit  down ! 
Our  fortune  to  harden,  they  show  Castle  Garden  — 

Kind  muses,  your  pardon ;  but  rhyme  it  I  must  — 
Where  soldiers  were  drilling,  you  now  must  be  willing 

To  pay  them  a  shilling  —  so  down  with  the  dust. 

TI. 

'Tis  uselesss  to  speak  of  our  writers  poetical, 

Of  Halleck  and  Bryant  and  Woodworth,  to  write ; 
There  are  others,  whose  trades  are  political  — 

Snowden  and  Townsend  and  "Walker  and  D  wight. 
There's  Lang  the  detector,  and  Coleman  the  hector, 

And  Xoah  the  protector  and  judge  of  the  Jews, 
And  King  the  accuser,  and  Stone  the  abuser, 

And  Grim  the  confuser  of  morals  and  news. 


'Tis  useless  to  speak  of  the  many  civilities 
Shown  to  FATETTE  in  this  country  of  late, 

Or  even  to  mention  the  splendid  abilities 
CLIOTOX  possesses  for  ruling  the  state. 


224:  NEW-YORK    IN    1826. 

The  union  of  water  and  Erie's  bright  daughter , 

Since  Neptune  has  caught  her  they'll  sever  no  more ; 

And  Greece  and  her  troubles  (the  rhyme  always  doubles) 
Have  vanished  like  bubbles  that  burst  on  the  shore. 


VIII. 

'Tis  useless  to  speak  of  Broadway  and  the  Bowery, 

Both  are  improving  and  growing  so  fast ! 
Who  would  have  thought  that  old  STUYVESANT'S  dowery 

"Would  hold  in  its  precincts  a  play-house  at  last? 
Well,  wonder  ne'er  ceases,  but  daily  increases, 

And  pulling  to  pieces,  the  town  to  renew, 
So  often  engages  the  thoughts  of  our  sages, 

That  when  the  fit  rages,  what  will  they  not  do  ? 


IX. 

'Tis  useless  to  speak  of  the  want  of  propriety 

In  forming  our  city  so  crooked  and  long ; 
Our  ancestors,  bless  them,  were  fond  of  variety  — 

It's  naughty  to  say  that  they  ever  were  wrong ! 
Tho'  strangers  may  grumble,  and  thro'  the  streets  stumble, 

Take  care  they  don't  tumble  through  crevices  small, 
For  trap-doors  we've  plentjvon  sidewalk  and  entry, 

And  no  one  stands  sentry  to  see  they  don't  fall. 


E  W  -  Y  0  R  K    IX    1826.  225 


'Tis  useless  to  speak  of  amusements  so  various, 

Of  opera-singers  that  few  understand  ; 
Of  Kean's  reputation,  so  sadly  precarious 

"When  he  arrived  in  this  prosperous  land. 
The  public  will  hear  him  —  and  hark  !  how  they  cheer  him ! 

Though  editors  jeer  him  —  we  all  must  believe 
He  pockets  the  dollars  of  sages  and  scholars : 

Of  course  then  it  follows  —  he  laughs  in  his  sleeve. 

XI. 

'Tis  useless  to  speak  —  but  just  put  on  your  spectacles, 

Read  about  Chatham,  and  Peale's  splendid  show : 
There 's  Scudder  and  Dunlap  —  they  both  have  receptacles 

Which,  I  assure  you,  are  now  all  the  go. 
'Tis  here  thought  polite  too,  should  giants  delight  you, 

And  they  should  invite  you,  to  look  at  their  shapes; 
To  visit  their  dwelling,  where  Indians  are  yelling, 

And  handbills  are  telling  of  wonderful  apes ! 

xn. 

'Tis  useless  to  speak  of  the  din  that  so  heavily 
Fell  on  our  senses  as  midnight  drew  near ; 

Trumpets  and  bugles  and  conch-shells,  so  cleverly 
Sounded  the  welkin  with  happy  JS"ew  Year! 


220  X  E  W  -  Y  0  R  K    IX    1826. 

With  jewsliarps  and  timbrels,  and  musical  thimbles. 
Tin-platters  for  cymbals,  and  frying-pans  too ; 

Dutch-ovens  and  brasses,  and  jingles  and  glasses, 
With  reeds  of  all  classes,  together  they  blew ! 


XIII. 

Then  since  it  is  useless  to  speak  about  anything 

All  have  examined  and  laid  on  the  shelf, 
Perhaps  it  is  proper  to  say  now  and  then  a  thing 

Touching  the  "MIRROR"  —  the  day  —  and  myself. 
Our  work's  not  devoted,  as  you  may  have  noted, 

To  articles  quoted  from  books  out  of  print; 
Instead  of  the  latter,  profusely  we  scatter 

Original  matter  that's  fresh  from  the  mint. 


i  xrv. 

Patrons,  I  greet  you  with  feelings  of  gratitude ; 

Ladies,  to  please  you  is  ever  my  care — 
Nor  wish  I,  on  earth,  for  a  sweeter  beatitude, 

If  I  but  bask  in  the  smiles  of  the  fair. 
Such  bliss  to  a  poet  is  precious — you  know  it — 

And  while  you  bestow  it,  the  heart  feels  content : 
Your  bounty  has  made  us,  and  still  you  will  aid  us, 

But  some  have  not  paid  us  —  we  hope  they'll  repent! 


S  E  W  -  Y  O  R  K    IX    1826.  227 


XV. 


For  holiday  pleasure,  why  these  are  the  times  for  it ; 

Pardon,  me,  then,  for  so  trifling  a  lay ; 
This  stanza  shall  end  it,  if  I  can  find  rhymes  for  it  — 

May  you,  dear  patrons,  be  happy  to-day  ! 
Though  life  is  so  fleeting,  and  pleasure  so  cheating, 

That  we  are  oft  meeting  with  accidents  here, 
Should  Fate  seek  to  dish  you,  oh  then  may  the  issue 

Be  what  I  now  wish  you — A  HAPPY  NEW  TEAK! 


228  THE    HERO'S    LEGACY. 


UPON  the  couch  of  death, 

The  champion  of  the  free, 
Gave,  with  his  parting  breath, 

This  solemn  legacy : 
"  Sheathed  be  the  battle-blade, 

"  And  hushed  the  cannon's  thunder : 
"  The  glorious  UNION  God  hath  made, 

"  Let  no  man  put  asunder ! 
"  War  banish  from  the  land, 

"  Peace  cultivate  with  all ! 
"  United  you  must  stand, 

"Divided  you  will  fall! 
"  Cemented  with  our  blood, 

"  The  UNION  keep  unriven  !" 
"While  freemen  heard  this  counsel  good, 

His  spirit  soared  to  heaven. 


"W  HAT    C  A  X    IT    ME  A  X  ?  229 


WHAT   CAN   IT  MEAN? 

i 

(WRITTEN  FOR  MISS  POOLE,  AND  SUNG  BY  HER  IN  THE 
CHARACTER  OF  COWSLIP.) 

I. 

I'M  much  too  young  to  marry, 

For  I  am  only  seventeen  ; 
"Why  think  I,  then,  of  Harry  ? 

What  can  it  mean  —  what  can  it  mean? 

n. 

Wherever  Harry  meets  me, 

Beside  the  brook  or  on  the  green, 
How  tenderly  he  greets  me ! 

What  can  it  mean — what  can  it  mean? 

m. 

Whene'er  my  name  he  utters, 

A  blush  upon  my  cheek  is  seen !  — 
His  voice  my  bosom  nutters !  — 

What  can  it  mean — what  can  it  mean? 


230  WHAT    CAN    IT   MEAN? 

IV. 

If  he  but  mentions  Cupid, 

Or,  smiling,  calls  me  "  fairy  queen," 

I  sigh,  and  look  so  stupid !  — 

What  can  it  mean — what  can  it  mean? 

v. 

Oh,  mercy !  what  can  ail  me  ? 

I  'rn  growing  wan  and  very  lean ; 
My  spirits  often  fail  me  ! 

What  can  it  mean — what  can  it  mean? 

VI. 

I  'M  NOT  ra  LOVE  !  — No !  —  Smother 

Such  a  thought  at  seventeen ! 
I'll  go  and  ask  my  mother — 

"  What  can  it  mean — what  can  it  mean?" 


THE    STORY    OF    A    SOXG.  231 


THE    STOEY    OF   A   SOXG. 

(CONTAINED  IN  A  LETTER  TO  A  FRIEND  WHO  REQUESTED  THE 
HISTORY  OF  MY  MOTHER'S  BD3LE.) 


I  WROTE  the  song  for  Russell, 

When  I  was  poor  and  sad, 
About  "My  Mother's  Bible"  — 

The  only  thing  I  had  — 
Which  sold  for  fifty  dollars, 

Much  to  his  heart's  content: 
He  put  them  in  his  pocket  — 

I  never  had  a  cent ! 

n. 

One  day  some  Yankee  minstrels, 
The  Hutchinsons  by  name, 

Reset  "My  Mother's  Bible"  — 
(The  tune  was  much  the  same) — 


232  THE    STORY    OF    A    SONG. 

Which  sold  for  forty  dollars, 
As  sure  as  you're  alive ; 

And,  like  true-hearted  fellows, 
They  gave  me  twenty-five  ! 

in. 

X 

These  facts  alone,  believe  me, 

Unto  the  words  belong  — 
The  rest  is  all  invented 

To  make  a  little  song. 
Don't  set  these  lines  to  music, 

Unless  —  excuse  the  laugh  — 
You  sell  them,  like  good  fellows, 

And  give  the  poet — half! 


fl  E  R  i:    HUDSON'S    W  A  V  E.  233 


WHERE   HUDSON'S    WAVE. 


WHERE  Hudson's  wave  o'er  silvery  sands 

"Winds  through  the  hills  afar, 
Old  Cronest  like  a  monarch  stands, 

Crowned  with  a  single  star ! 
And  there,  amid  the  billowy  swells 

Of  rock-ribbed,  cloud-capped  earth, 
My  fair  and  gentle  Ida  dwells, 

A  nymph  of  mountain-birth. 

IT. 
The  snow-flake  that  the  cliff  receives, 

The  diamonds  of  the  showers, 
Spring's  tender  blossoms,  buds  and  leaves, 

The  sisterhood  of  flowers, 
Morn's  early  beam,  eve's  balmy  breeze, 

Her  purity  define ; 
Yet  Ida's  dearer  far  than  these 

To  this  fond  breast  of  mine. 


231  WHERE    HUDSON'S   WAVE. 

III. 
My  heart  is  on  the  hills.     The  shades 

Of  night  are  on  my  brow : 
Ye  pleasant  haunts  and  quiet  glades, 

My  soul  is  with  you  now ! 
I  bless  the  star-crowned  highlands  where 

My  Ida's  footsteps  roam : 
O  for  a  falcon's  wing  to  bear 

Me  onward  to  my  home ! 


A  U    R  E  V  0  I  R I  235 


AU   KEVOIK! 

i. 

LOVE  left  one  day  his  leafy  bower, 

And  roamed  in  sportive  vein, 
Where  Yanity  had  built  a  tower, 

For  Fashion's  sparkling  train. 
The  mistress  to  see  he  requested, 

Of  one  who  attended  the  door : 
"  Not  home,"  said  the  page,  who  suggested 

That  he'd  leave  his  card.  —  "Au  revoir." 

n. 
Love  next  came  to  a  lowly  bower : 

A  maid  who  knew  no  guile, 
Unlike  the  lady  of  the  tower, 
Received  him  with  a  smile. 
Since  then  the  cot  beams  with  his  brightness, 

-  Though  often  at  Vanity's  door 
Love  calls,  merely  out  of  politeness, 

And  just  leaves  his  card.— "Au  revoir!" 


236  EPI  fT  RAMS— EPITAPH. 


EPIGRAMS, 
i. 

ON   HEADING   GRIM5S   ATTACK   UPON   CLINTON. 

'Tis  the  opinion  of  the  town 

That  Grim 's  a  silly  elf: 
In  trying  to  write  Clinton  down, 

He  went  right  down  himself. 

ii. 

ON  HEAEING  THAT  MORSE  DID  NOT  "  INVENT"  THE  TELEGRAPH. 

FIRST  they  said  it  would  not  do ; 

But,  when  he  got  through  it, 
Then  they  vowed  they  always  knew 

That  he  didn't  do  it ! 
Lies  are  rolling  stones,  of  course, 
But  they  can't  adhere  to  Morse. 


EPITAPH. 

ALL  that's  beautiful  in  woman, 
All  we  in  her  nature  love, 

All  that's  good  in  all  that's  human, 
Passed  this  gate  to  courts  above. 


THEATRICAL    ADDRESSES.  9?,T 


FOR   THE   BENEFIT   OF   WILLIAM  DUN  LA  P. 
(SPOKEN   BY   MRS.   SHAKPE.) 

WHAT  gay  assemblage  greets  my  wondering  sight ! 

What  scene  of  splendour — conjured  here  to-night! 

What  voices  murmur,  and  what  glances  gleam  ! 

Sure  'tis  some  flattering,  unsubstantial  dream. 

The  house  is  crowded  —  everybody's  here 

For  beauty  famous,  or  to  science  dear; 

Doctors  and  lawyers,  judges,  belles  and  beaux, 

Poets  and  painters  —  and  Heaven  only  knows 

Whom  else  beside! — And  see,  guy  ladies  sit, 

Lighting  with  smiles  that  fearful  place,  the  pit  — 

(A  fairy  change — ah,  pray  continue  it.) 

Gray  heads  are  here  too,  listening  to  my  rhymes, 

Full  of  the  spirit  of  departed  times ; 

Grave  men  and  studious,  strangers  to  my  sight, 

All  gather  round  me  on  this  brilliant  night. 


238  THEATRICAL    A  D  D  11  E  S  S  E  S. 

And  welcome  are  ye  all.     Not  now  ye  come 

To  speak  some  trembling  poet's  awful  doom ; 

With  frowning  eyes  a  "  want  of  mind"  to  trace 

In  some  new  actor's  inexperienced  face, 

Or  e'en  us  old  ones  (oh,  for  shame !)  to  rate 

"With  study  good  —  in  time  —  but  —  never  great:" 

"Not  like  yon  travelled  native,  just  to  say 

"  Folks  in  this  country  cannot  act  a  play  — 

They  can't,  'pon  honour !"    How  the  creature  starts ! 

His  wit  and  whiskers  came  from  foreign  parts ! 

Nay,  madam,  spare  your  blushes — you  I  mean  — 

There  —  close  beside  him  —  oh,  you're  full  nineteen  — 

You  need  not  shake  your  flowing  locks  at  me  — 

The  man,  your  sweetheart — then  I'm  dumb,  you  see; 

I'll  let  him  off — you'll  punish  him  in  time, 

Or  I've  no  skill  in  prophecy  or  rhyme  ! 

A  nobler  motive  fills  your  bosoms  now, 

To  wreathe  the  laurel  round  the  silvered  brow 

Of  one  who  merits  it  —  if  any  can  — 

The  artist,  author  and  the  honest  man. 

With  equal  charms  his  pen  and  pencil  drew 

Bright  scenes,  to  nature  and  to  virtue  true. 

Full  oft  upon  these  boards  hath  youth  appeared, 

And  oft  your  smiles  his  faltering  footsteps  cheered ; 

But  not  alone  on  budding  genius  smile, 

Leaving  the  ripened  sheaf  unowned  the  while ; 


T  II  E  A  T  II  1  C  A  L    A  I)  I)  II  ESSES.  L'39 

To  boyish  hope  not  every  bounty  give, 
And  only  youth  and  beauty  bid  to  live. 
Will  you  forget  the  services  long  past  — 
Turn  the  old  war-horse  out  to  die  at  last?  — 
When,  his  proud  strength  and  noble  fleetness  o'er, 
His  faithful  bosom  dares  the  charge  no  more ! 
Ah,  no  ! — The  sun  that  loves  his  beams  to  shed 
Hound  every  opening  floweret's  tender  head, 
With  smiles  as  kind  his  genial  radiance  throws 
To  cheer  the  sadness  of  the  fading  rose  : 
Thus  he,  whose  merit  claims  this  dazzling  crowd, 
Points  to  the  past,  and  has  his  claims  allowed ; 
Looks  brightly  forth,  his  faithful  journey  done, 
And  rests  in  triumph — like  the  setting  sun. 


240  THEATRICAL    ADDRESSES. 


ADDRESS 

FOR  THE  BENEFIT  OF  JAMES  SHERIDAN  KNOWLES. 
(SPOKEN   BY   MKS.   CHAPMAN.) 

NAY,  Mr  Simpson!  —  'Tis  not  kind  —  polite — 
To  shut  me  out,  sir?  —  I'm  in  such  a  fright!  — 
I  cannot  speak  the  lines,  I'm  sure  !  —  Oh,  fie ! 
To  say  I  must!  —  but  if  I  must  —  I'll  try! 

From  him  I  turn  to  these  more  generous  souls, 
The  drama's  patrons  and  the  friends  of  KNOWLES. 
"Why,  what  a  brilliant  galaxy  is  here ! 
What  stars  adorn  this  mimic  hemisphere  ! 
Names  that  shine  brightest  on  our  country's  page ! 
The  props  of  science — literature  —  the  stage  ! 
Above — below  —  around  me  —  woman  smiles, 
The  fairest  floweret  of  these  western  wilds  — 
All  come  to  pay  the  tribute  of  their  praise 
To  the  first  dramatist  of  modern  days : 


THE  A  T  R  I  C  A  L    A  D  I)  R  E  S  S  E  S.  241 

Arid  welcome,  to  the  green  Lome  of  the  free, 
With  heart  and  hand,  the  Lard  of  liLertv ! 

t  v 

His  is  a  wizard-wand.     Its  potent  spell 
Broke  the  deep  slumLer  of  the  patriot  Tell, 
And  placed  him  on  his  native  hills  again, 
The  pride  and  glory  of  his  fellow-men ! 
The  poet  speaks  —  for  Rome  Virginia  Lleeds! 
Bold  Cains  Gracchus  in  the  forum  pleads ! 
Alfred  —  the  Great,  Lecause  the  good  and  wise, 
Bids  prostrate  England  Lurst  her  Londs  and  rise ! 
Sweet  Bess,  the  Beggar's  Daughter,  beauty's  queen, 
Walks  forth  the  joy  and  wonder  of  the  scene ! 
The  HunchLack  enters  —  kindly  —  fond  —  severe  — 
And  last,  Lehold  the  glorious  Wife  appear ! 

These  are  the  bright  creations  of  a  mind 

o 

Glowing  with  genius,  chastened  and  refined. 

In  all  he 's  written,  be  this  praise  his  lot : 

"  oSTot  one  word,  dying,  would  he  wish  to  blot !" 

Upon  my  life  'tis  no  such  easy  thing 
To  laud  the  bard,  unless  an  eagle's  wing 
My  muse  would  take ;  and,  fixing  on  the  sun 
Her  burning  eye,  soar  as  his  own  has  done ! 

Did  you  speak,  sir? — What,  madam,  did  he  say? 
Wrangling !  — for  shame !  —  before  your  wedding-day ! 


THEATRICAL    ADDRESSES. 


Nay,  gentle  lady,  by  thine  eyes  of  blue, 

And  vermeil  blushes,  I  did  not  mean  you ! 

Bless  me,  what  friends  at  every  glance  I  see ! 

Artists  and  authors — men  of  high  degree ; 

Grave  politicians,  who  have  weighed  each  chance  — 

The  next  election,  and  the  war  with  France ; 

Doctors,  just  come  from  curing  half  a  score  — 

And  belles,  from  killing  twice  as  many  more  ; 

Judges,  recorders,  aldermen  and  mayors, 

Seated,  like  true  republicans,  down  stairs  ! 

All  wear  a  glow  of  sunshine  in  their  faces 

Might  well  become  Apollo  and  the  graces, 

Except  one  yonder,  with  a  look  infernal, 

Like  a  blurred  page  from  Fanny  Kemble's  Journal ! 

But  to  my  task.     The  muse,  when  I  began, 
Spoke  of  the  writer — welcome  ye  the  man. 
Genius,  at  best,  acts  but  an  humble  part, 
Unless  obedient  to  an  honest  heart. 
And  such  a  one  is  his,  for  whom,  to-night, 
These  walls  are  crowded  with  this  cheering  sight. 
Ye  love  the  poet — oft  have  conned  him  o'er 
Knew  ye  the  man,  ye  'd  love  him  ten  times  more. 
Ye  critics,  spare  him  from  your  tongue  and  quill ; 
Ye  gods,  applaud  him ;  and  ye  fops — be  still ! 


THEATRIC  A  L    A  D  D  R  ]•:  S  S  E  S. 


ADDRESS 

FOR    THE    BENEFIT    OF    HENRY    PLACIDE 

• 

(SPOKEN   BY   MRS.    HILSON.) 

THE  music 's  done.     Be  quiet,  Mr.  Durie ! 
Tour  bell  and  whistle  put  me  in  a  fury  ! 
Don't  ring  up  yet,  sir — I've  a  word  to  say 
Before  the  curtain  rises  for  the  play ! 

Tour  pardon,  gentlefolks,  nor  think  me  bold, 
Because  I  thus  our  worthy  prompter  scold : 
'Twas  all  feigned  anger.    This  enlightened  age 
Requires  a  ruse  to  bring  one  on  the  stage ! 

Well,  here  I  am,  quite  dazzled  with  the  sight 
Presented  on  this  brilliant  festal  night ! 
Where'er  I  turn,  whole  rows  of  patrons  sit  — 
The  house  is  full — box,  gallery  and  pit ! 
Who  says  the  New-York  public  are  unkind  ? 
I  know  them  well,  and  plainly  speak  my  mind — 


21 1  THEATRICAL    ADDRESSES. 


"It  is  our  right,"  the  ancient  poet  sung  — 
He  knew  the  value  of  a  woman's  tongue ! 
"With  this  I  will  defend  ye  —  and  rehearse 
Five  glorious  acts  of  jours  —  in  modern  verse; 
Each  one  concluding  with  a  generous  deed 
For  Dunlap,  Cooper,  Woodworth,  Knowles,  Placide  ! 
'Twas  nobly  done,  ye  patriots  and  scholars! 
Besides — 'they  netted  twenty  thousand  dollars! 
"A  good  round  sum,"  in  these  degenerate  times  — 
"  This  bank-note  world,"  so  called  in  Halleck's  rhymes ; 
And  proof  conclusive,  you  will  frankly  own, 
In  liberal  actions  New-York  stands  alone. 

Though  roams  he  oft  'mong  green  poetic  bowers, 
The  actor's  path  is  seldom  strewn  with  flowers. 
His  is  a  silent,  secret,  patient  toil  — 
While  others  sleep,  he  burns  the  midnight  oil  — 
Pores  o'er  his  books  —  thence  inspiration  draws, 
And  wastes  his  life  to  merit  your  applause ! 
O  ye,  who  come  the  laggard  hours  to  while, 
And  with  the  laugh-provoking  muse  to  smile, 
Remember  this  :  the  mirth  that  cheers  you  so, 
Shows  but  the  surface  —  not  the  depths  below! 
Then  judge  not  lightly  of  the  actor's  art, 
Who  smiles  to  please  you,  with  a  breaking  heart ! 
Neglect  him  not  in  his  hill-climbing  course, 
Nor  treat  him  with  less  kindness  than  your  horse: 


T  II  E  A  T  R  I  C  A  L    ADDRESS  E  S. 


Up  hill,  indulge  him  —  down  the  deep  descent, 

Spare  —  and  don't  urge  him  when  his  strength  is  spent ; 

Impel  him  briskly  o'er  the  level  earth, 

But  in  the  stable  don't  forget  his  worth ! 

So  with  the  actor  —  while  you  work  him  hard, 

Be  mindful  of  his  claims  to  your  regard. 

But  hold!  —  methinks  some  carping  cynic  hero 
Will  greet  my  homely  image  with  a  sneer. 
Well — let  us  see — I  would  the  monster  view: 
Man  with  umbrageous  whiskers,  is  it  you  ? 
Ah,  no  —  I  was  mistaken  :  every  brow 
Beams  with  benevolence  and  kmdness  now ; 
Beauty  and  fashion  all  the  circles  grace  — 
And  scowling  Envy  here  were  out  of  place ! 
On  every  side  the  wise  and  good  appear — 
The  very  pillars  of  the  state  are  here ! 
There  sit  the  doctors  of  the  legal  clan ; 
There  all  the  city's  rulers,  to  a  man ; 
Critics  and  editors,  and  learned  M.  D.'S, 
Buzzing  and  busy,  like  a  hive  of  bees ; 
And  there,  as  if  to  keep  us  all  in  order, 
Our  worthy  friends  the  Mayor  and  the  Recorder ! 

Well,  peace  be  with  you !    Friends  of  native  worth, 
Yours  is  the  power  to  call  it  into  birth ; 


24:6  THEATRICAL    ADDRESSES. 

Yours  is  the  genial  influence  smiles  upon 
The  budding  flowerets  opening  to  the  sun. 
They  all  around  us  court  your  fostering  hand — 
Rear  them  with  care,  in  beauty  they'll  expand  - 
With  grateful  odours  well  repay  your  toil, 
Equal  to  those  sprung  from  a  foreign  soil ; 
And  more  Placides  bask  in  your  sunshine  then, 
The  first  of  actors  and  the  best  of  men. 


THE 


OR, 


WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR? 


AN 


OPERA  IN  THREE  ACTS. 


FOUNDED    UPON    HISTORICAL    EVENTS    IN    THE    LIFE    OF   FREDERICK   THE   SECOND   OF 

PRUSSIA,    RELATED    BY    MISS    EDGEWORTFI,    ZIMMERMANN,    LATROBE, 

AND    OTHER    WRITERS. 


THE  MUSIC 

(With  the  exception  of  three  German  Melodies,  nnd  the  characteristic  Introduction) 
COMPOSED    BY 

CHARLES   E.    HORN. 


THE  LIBRETTO  BY  GEORGE  P.  MORRIS. 


The  Scenery  by Messrs.  HILLYARD,  WHEATLEY,  and  Assistants. 

The  Costumes  by M.  LOUIS. 

The  Properties  and  Decorations  by.  . M.  DEJONGE. 

The  Machinery  by M.  SPEYERS. 

The  Orchestra  increased,  and  the  Choruses  full  and  effective. 

Leader  of  the  Orchestra  and  Chorus-Master M.  CHUBB. 

The  Music  produced  under  the  direction  of Mr.  C.  E.  HORN. 

Stage-Manager Mr.  BARKY. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS, 


FREDERICK  II.  (King  of  Prussia) Mr.  CHIPPENDALE. 

COUNT  LANISKA  (his  Aid-de-Camp,  a  Pole) Mr.  MANVERS. 

ALBERT  (a  young  Saxon  student-at-law) Mr.  FREDERICKS. 

KARL  (a  Hungarian,  Packer  to  the  Royal  Factory) Mr.  C.  E.  HORN. 

WEDGEWOOD  (an  English  Merchant) Mr.  PLACIDE. 

BARON  ALTENBERG  (Attorney- General) Mr.  BARRY. 

JUDGE  OF  THE  COURT Mr.  CLARK. 

HANS  (an  Innkeeper) Mr.  ANDREWS. 

HAROLD  (an  old  Sergeant  of  Grenadiers) Mr.  SEGUIN. 

CORPORAL  OF  GRENADIERS  (old  man) Mr.  FISHER. 

BURGOMASTER Mr.  POVET. 

JAILOR  OF  TIIK  CASTLE  OF  SPANDAU Mr.  BELLAMY. 

HERALD Mr.  NELSON. 

FIRST  GENERAL Mr.  KING. 

SECOND  GENERAL Mr.  GALLOT. 

Staff-Officers,  Officers  of  State,  Workmen  of  the  Factory,  Citizens,  Advocates, 
Jurymen,  Grenadiers,  Peasants,  Travellers,  Servants,  d'c. 

COUNTESS  LANISKA Mrs.  BARRY. 

FREDERICA  (her  Daughter) Mrs.  KNIGHT. 

SOPHIA  MANSFIELD  (die  Saxon.  Maid) Mrs.  C.  E.  HORN. 

GERTRUDE  Miss  MARY  TAYLOR, 

Ladies  of  the  Court,  Factory-Girls,  Peasants,  d'c. 


SCENE — Berlin  and  Potsdam. 

TIME — Latter  part  of  the  reign  of  Frederick  the  Great. 


THE  MAID   OF  S  A  I  0  N  Y, 


ACT   I. 

SCENE    I. 

Inside  of  a  German  Inn,  on  the  road  to  Berlin.  Fire 
and  candles  nearly  extinguished.  Clock  In  the  corner, 
marking  the  hour  of  ten.  HANS  seated  In  an  arm- 
chair, asleep.  Music.  The  curtain  rises  to  the  open- 
Ing  symphony.  HANS  yawns  In  his  sleep. 
(Enter  GERTRUDE.) 

GERTRUDE. 

Ho !  Hans  ! — Why,  Hans ! — You  Hans,  I  say ! 
Awake! — Here '11  be  the  deuce  to  pay! 
For  coming  guests  get  fire  and  lights, 
And  help  me  put  the  room  to  rights ! 

(HANS  stretches  and  yawns) 
Hans!  —  I've  no  patience  with  tlie  lout! 
What,  Hans,  on  earth  are  you  about  ? 

(Shakes  HANS,  who  yawns  again) 


252  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  L 


Did  ever  room  look  so  forlorn  ? 
Hans ! — Hark  !  I  hear  the  postman's  horn  ! 
(Sounds  of  a  horn  in  the  distance.    HANS  stretcher,  yaimis, 
and  rises.) 

HANS. 

What  der  tuyvel  is  der  matter, 
Dus  you  chitter  —  chatter  —  clatter? 

GERTRUDE    (aside.) 

His  impudence  cannot  be  borne ! 

IIAJSTS. 
What's  datlhear? 

GERTRUDE. 

The  postman's  horn ! 

(/Sounds  of  horn  again.) 
Whose  notes  o'er  moor  and  mountain  flung  — 

HANS. 
Are  not  so  noisy  as  your  tongue ! 

(Horn  sounds  as  though  approaching  •  whips  are  heard, 
and  the  post-coach  is  supposed  to  arrive  outside  with 
Passengers.  Enter  the  Attendants,  with  portm  anteaus, 
carpet-lags,  c&c.,  and  Passengers.) 

CHORUS. 

Rejoice!  rejoice!  we're  safe  and  sound, 
And  shelter  for  the  night  have  found, 
Within  this  snug  abode  ! 


SCENE  I.]  0  II ,     W  II  ()  'S    THE    T  U  A  I  TOP./ 


Tlie  dust  may  rise,  the  rain  may  fall  — 
Beneath  this  roof  we  '11  smile  at  all 

The  dangers  of  the  road ! 

SOLO. 

Then  let  the  cheerful  board  be  spread ; 
To  supper  first,  and  then  to  bed, 

Till  birds  their  songs  begin : 
Tims,  whether  sleeping  or  awake, 
The  weary  traveller  will  take 

His  comfort  at  his  inn. 

CHORUS. 
Rejoice!  rejoice!  we're  safe,  &c. 

{Exit  Passengers  and  Attendants. 

GERTRUDE. 

"Where  in  the  world  are  all  these  people  going  to,  Hans  ? 
HANS. 

To  Berlin,  to  shee  der  troops.  Frederick  musters  dem 
to-morrow  at  der  capital.  But  why  don't  you  attend  to 
der  guests? 

GERTRUDE. 

Why  don't  you  f     You  are  not  fit  to  keep  an  inn,  Hans. 

HANS. 

I  was  not  prought  up  to  it ;  mine  pishiness  was  to  keep 
a  paint-shop,  and  shell  der  colours  to  der  artists. 

GERTRUDE. 

Don't  stand  here  chattering  about  your  fine  colours — 
but  look  to  the  guests — • 


254:  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  L 

HANS. 

Yaw,  yaw,  mein  fraulein. 

ALBERT    (without.) 

Ho  !  landlord ! — Waiters,  look  to  our  luggage ! 

WEDGEWOOD  (speaking  as  he  enters.) 
If  it  is  convenient. 

{Enter  ALBERT  and  WEDGEWOOD  in  cloaks,  IrisHy) 

GERTRUDE. 

This  way,  gentlemen,  this  way. 

ALBERT. 

Two  bed-chambers,  landlord,  as  soon  as  possible. 

HANS. 
Yaw,  mynheer. 

(Gives  directions  to  Attendant,  who  exits.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Landlady,  take  care  of  my  coat  and  stick,  and  here 's 
something  for  your  pains. 

GERTRUDE. 

Yes,  sir. 

WEDGEWOOD  (lookiny  at  her) 
What  a  pretty  girl ! 

GERTRUDE. 

Is  that  all,  sir  ? 

WEDGEWOOD   (aside  to  GERTRUDE.) 

No,  that's  not  all.    (Kisses  her.)    Take  this  into  tho 
bargain,  you  jade! 


SCENE  I.]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  255 

GEETEUDE  (courtesies} 

Thank  you,  sir.  (Aside.]  What  a  nice,  queer  old  gen- 
tleman ! 

HANS  (taking  her  away  passionately} 

What 's  dat  to  you  ?  Give  me  der  tings  (takes  them.} 
You  do  noding  but  ogle  mit  der  young  folks,  and  flirt 
mit  der  old  ones ! 

GEETEUDE. 

Oh,  you  jealous  brute !  [Exit  in  a  huff. 

WEDGEWOOD  (noticing  her} 

Nice  girl  that — odd,  too,  that  she  should  have  married 
a  man  old  enough  to  be  her  grandfather ! 

HANS  (aside} 

Dat  queer  chap  in  der  brown  vig  I'm  sure  is  a  gay 
deceiver,  or  he  would  not  admire  mine  vife  so  much.  I 
must  have  mine  eyes  about  me.  [Exit. 

WEDGEWOOD  (noticing  HANS  and  GEKTEUDE.) 
Odd,  very  odd,  very  odd  indeed!     But  now  that  we 
are  alone,  pray  continue  the  narrative  you  commenced 
in  the  coach  —  if  it  is  convenient. 

ALBERT. 

Right  willingly.  Frederick,  after  his  conquest  of  Sax- 
ony, transported  by  force  several  manufacturers  from 
Dresden  to  Berlin,  where  he  has  established  a  Porcelain- 
Factory — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Separated  from  their  friends,  home,  and  country,  these 


250  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  I. 

unfortunate  people  are  compelled  to  continue  their  la- 
bours for  the  profit  and  glory  of  their  conqueror  —  I  know 
it  —  go  on  — 

ALBERT. 

Among  those  in  bondage  is  Sophia  Mansfield — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

I  have  heard  of  her:  —  a  young,  beautiful  and  singu- 
larly-gifted girl — • 

ALBERT. 

Several  pieces  of  her  design  and  modelling  were  shown 
to  the  king,  when  he  was  at  Meissen,  in  Saxony ;  and  he 
was  so  struck  with  their  beauty,  that  he  determined  to 
convey  the  artist,  with  other  prisoners,  to  his  capital — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Where  he  issued  his  royal  edict,  compelling  the  girls 
of  the  factory  to  marry  Prussian  soldiers.  Unfeelingly 
odd! 

ALBERT. 

Sophia  has  yet  escaped  this  tyranny.  The  overseer^ 
however,  has  demanded  her  hand  ;  but  I  shall  be  in  time 
to  thwart  his  purposes. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

But,  to  effect  that,  you  must  also  thwart  the  purposes 
of  Frederick  himself,  who,  I  understand,  is  as  stubborn 
as  he  is  bold. 

ALBERT. 

Count  Laniska  has  won  Sophia's  affections,  and  love  is 
a  power  that  cannot  be  controlled. 


SCENE!.]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  257 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Veritably  odd ! 

ALBERT. 

You  are  on  your  way  to  the  factory — have  you  free 
admission  for  yourself  and  friends? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Indubitably. 

ALBERT. 

Then  we  will,  with  your  permission,  visit  it  together. 
(Aside.)  In  this  disguise,  and  under  the  name  of  Wor- 
rendorf,  I  may  pass  unnoticed. 

(Re-enter  HANS,  with  trunks,  c&c.,  and  GERTRUDE.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

It  is  growing  late.  After  the  fatigues  of  the  journey,, 
I  need  repose. 

ALBERT. 

And  so  do  I.     Good-night ! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Good-night !  [Exit  ALBERT  ;  GERTRUDE  takes  a  lighted 
candle  from  the  table,  and  shows  the  way  /  WEDGEWOOD 
takes  a  light.']  Do  you  rise  early,  friend  ? 

HANS. 
No,  mynheer;  but  mine  vife  does — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Then  tell  your  wife  to  knock  at  my  door  early  in  the 
morning. 


258  THE    MAID    OF    SAXON  T :  [ACT  L 

HANS  (eying  him  and  looking  suspiciously?) 
So  ho  !  I  smoJ^e  you  — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Then  keep  farther  off  with  your  confounded  pipe,  you 
Dutch  abomination ! 

HAXS  (laying  Ms  finger  on  his  nose.) 
And  I  schmells  a  rat. 

WEDGEWOOD  (looking  around?) 
The  devil  you  do  !     Where  ?  — 

HANS. 

So  I  vill  knock  at  yourn  door  myself — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

If  it  is  convenient.  (Exit  HANS.)  A  pretty  house  I 
have  got  into !  —  Smokes  me !  —  smells  a  rat !  — The  filthy 
Dutchman !  [Exit. 


SCENE    II. 

An  open  cut  wood  near  Berlin.  Tents  in  the  distance. 
A  military  outpost.  Enter  HAROLD,  Corporal  and  a 
party  of  Soldiers,  in  military  undress. 

SONG. 
The  life  for  me  is  a  soldier's  life ! 

With  that  what  glories  come ! 
The  notes  of  the  spirit-stirring  fife, 

The  roll  of  the  battle-drum ; 


SCENE  II.]  OR,    WHO'S    T  II  E    TRAIT  0  R  ? 

The  brilliant  array,  the  bearing  high, 
The  plumed  warriors'  tramp  ; 

The  streaming  banners  that  flout  the  sky, 
The  gleaming  pomp  of  the  camp. 

CHORUS. 
A  soldier's  life  is  the  life  for  me ! 

With  that  what  glories  come  ! 
The  notes  of  the  spirit-stirring  fife, 

The  roll  of  the  battle-drum ! 


HAROLD. 

So,  corporal,  at  last  we  are  to  have  a  muster  of  the 
combined  forces  of  the  kingdom. 
CORPORAL. 

Yes,  the  king  is  never  so  happy  as  when  he  has  all  his 
children,  as  he  calls  us,  about  him. 

HAROLD. 

And  plaguy  good  care  he  takes  of  his  children  !  He 
looks  after  our  domestic  as  well  as  our  public  interests ! 
It  was  a  strange  whim  in  old  Fritz  to  offer  each,  of  his 
soldiers  one  of  the  factory-girls  for  a  wife ! 

CORPORAL. 
I  wonder  the  old  hero  does  not  marry  some  of  them 

himself. 

HAROLD. 

He  would  rather  look  after  his  soldiers  than  meddle 
with  the  fancies  of  the  women — and  at  his  age  too ! 


200  T  U  E    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  I. 

CORPOUAJL. 

Nonsense !  The  king  is  a  boy — a  mere  boy — of  sev- 
enty !  But  he  does  meddle  with  the  women  sometimes. 

HAROLD. 
Say  you  so  ? 

CORPORAL. 

Ay,  and  old  ones  too.  It  was  but  the  other  day  that 
he  pensioned  a  poor  widow,  whose  only  son  fell  in  a  skir- 
mish at  his  side.  Heaven  bless  his  old  cocked  hat ! 

HAROLD. 

Yet  is  it  not  singular  that  one  so  mindful  of  the  rights 
of  old  women  should  compel  the  young  ones  to  toil  as 
they  do  in  the  factory  ? 

CORPORAL. 

Tush,  tush,  man!  —  that's  none  of  your  concern,  nor 
mine.  What  have  we  to  do  with  state  affairs  ? 

HAROLD. 

Eight,  corporal;  and  it's  not  worth  while  for  us  to 
trouble  our  heads  about  other  people's  business. 

CORPORAL. 
You're  a  sensible  fellow — 

HAROLD. 

Right  again ;  and  I  would  return  the  compliment  if 
you  did  not  wear  such  a  flashy  watch-riband  (looks  at  it.} 

CORPORAL. 
That's  personal! 


SCENE  II.]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  2G1 

HAEOLD. 

I  mean  it  to  be  so.  "What  the  devil  do  you  wear  it 
for? 

COBPOEAL. 

To  gratify  a  whim.  I  like  this  riband.  It  was  a  pres- 
ent from  an  old  sweetheart  of  mine.  Look  what -a  jaunty 
air  it  gives  one! — and  where 's  the  harm  of  keeping  up 
appearances? — 

HAEOLD. 

What  silly  vanity !  But  let  me  give  you  a  piece  of 
advice :  beware  of  the  scrutiny  of  the  king — he  has  an 
eye  like  a  hawk,  old  as  he  is ;  and  if  he  should  happen 
to  spy  your  watch-riband  — 

COEPOEAL. 

Pooh,  pooh!  he  would  not  notice  such  a  trifle. — But 
who  comes  yonder?  That  Hungarian  Karl.  Let's  make 
way  for  him. — He's  a  fellow  I  don't  fancy.  What  a 
man  to  woo  and  win  Sophia  Mansfield ! 

HAEOLD. 

He  '11  never  win  her,  woo  her  as  he  may.  Count  La- 
niska  will  look  to  that. 

[HAEOLD,  Corporal  and  party  retire  into  tents. 
(Enter  KAEL,  in  great  agitation?) 


262                       THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  L 

SONG KARL. 

Confusion  !  — Again,  rejected 

By  the  maid  I  fondly  love ! 
Illusion! — In  soul  dejected! 

Jealous  fears  my  bosom  move. 
Dear  Sophia! — Hope's  deceiver! 

Whom  I  love  ;  but  love  in  vain ! 
Can  I  to  my  rival  leave  her?  — 

No — the  thought  distracts  my  brain  ! 

Love — revenge  !  —  Oh,  how  I  falter ! 

Passion's  throes  unman  me  quite : 

i 

Now  he  leads  her  to  the  altar — 

How  I  tremble  at  the  sight ! 
Hold,  tormentors !  cease  to  tear  me ! 

All  in  vain  I  gasp  for  breath ! 
Hated  rival — scorn  I  bear  thee 

Which  can  only  end  in  death  ! 

(HAROLD  advances.) 
HAROLD. 
Karl,  what  ails  you  ? 

KARL  (aside.) 

Observed !     ( To  HAROLD.)  An  infirmity  I  Ve  had  from 
my  youth  upward.    I  shall  be  better  presently. 

HAROLD. 
You  tremble  like  one  with  the  ague ! 


SCENE  II.]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TEA  I  TO  II?  2C3 

KAEL. 

We  Hungarians  liave  not  your  tougli  constitution,  com- 
rade :  besides,  the  weather  is  chilly  —  it  freezes  me  to  the 
bone. 

HAROLD. 

It's  the  weather  within,  Karl.  Repair  to  the  factory, 
and  sun  yourself  in  the  bright  eyes  of  Sophia  Mansfield ! 
That  will  warm  you,  especially  if  Count  Laniska  happens 
to  be  by  to  stir  up  the  fire  of  your  jealousy  —  eh? 

KARL. 
You  have  a  sharp  wit,  which  I  lack,  comrade. 

HAROLD  (sarcastically.) 
And  I've  another  thing  which  you  lack — comrade. 

KARL. 
What  may  that  be  ? 

HAROLD. 

A  clear  conscience,  my  old  boy ! 

\Exii  HAROLD  into  tent. 
KARL. 

Does  he  suspect?  No — sleeping  and  waking  I  have 
concealed  this  (his  arm)  damning  evidence  of  my  guilt. 
The  mark  of  Cain  I  bear  about  me  is  known  to  none,  and 
the  secret  dies  with  me. — For  that  young  Pole,  Sophia 
scorns  me;  but  let  him  beware!  —  My  revenge,  though 
slow,  is  sure ! 

(KARL  turns  to  go  j  but  perceiving  Count  LANISKA  advan- 
cing, he  retires  into  a  tent.  Enter  LANISKA,  who  no- 
tices XARL  in  the  distance) 


201                       THE    MAID    0  F    S  A  X  O  X  Y :  [Acr  L 

SONG LANISKA. 

When  I  behold  that  lowering  brow, 

"Which  indicates  the  mind  within, 
I  marvel  much  that  woman's  vow 

A  man  like  that  could  ever  win! 
Yet  it  is  said,  in  rustic  bower, 

(The  fable  I  have  often  heard) 
A  serpent  has  mysterious  power 

To  captivate  a  timid  bird. 

This  precept  then  I  sadly  trace — 

That  love's  a  fluttering  thing  of  air; 
And  yonder  lurks  the  viper  base, 

Who  would  my  gentle  bird  ensnare ! 
'T  was  in  the  shades  of  Eden's  bower 

This  fascination  had  its  birth, 
And  even  there  possessed  the  power 

To  lure  the  paragon  of  earth ! 

(At  the  conclusion  of  the  song,  KAJRL  is  about  to  retire. 
LANISKA  addresses  Mm.) 

COUNT. 
Come  hither,  Karl. 

KARL. 

I  wait  upon  your  leisure,  count. 

COUNT. 
I  would  have  some  words  with  you. 


SCENE  II.]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  2G5 

KARL. 

You  may  not  relish  tlifi  frankness  of  my  manner. 

COUNT. 
Indeed ! 

KARL. 

Look  you.  Count  Laniska ;  I  am  a  plain,  blunt,  straight- 
forward, rough-spoken  fellow,  and  a  soldier  like  yourself. 
I  know  my  rights ;  and  knowing,  will  maintain  them.  It 
was  by  the  king's  permission  and  authority  that  I  chose 
Sophia  Mansfield  for  my  bride  — 

COUNT. 
She  has  rejected  you. 

KARL. 

What  has  that  to  do  with  the  matter?  "Women  are 
often  perverse,  and  not  always  the  best  judges  of  their 
own  welfare ;  and  you  know  she  must  be  mine  — 

COUNT. 

Must?  — 

KAEL. 

Yes,  must.  I  have  the  king's  promise,  and  Frederick 
was  never  known  to  break  his  word. 

COUNT. 
You  surely  would  not  marry  her  against  her  will  ? 

KAEL. 

"Why "not?  Sophia  is  the  only  woman  I  ever  loved: 
and  now  that  I  have  her  sure,  think  you  I  will  resign 
her? 


206  THE    MAID    OF    S  A  T  0  X  Y :  [Acr  L 

COUNT. 

And  think  you  the  king  will  force  an  angel  into  the 
arms  of  a  monster?  He  cannot  be  so  great  a  tyrant — • 

KARL. 

Tyrant ! 

COUNT. 

Yes.  Man  was  created  to  cherish  woman,  not  to  op- 
press her ;  and  he  is  the  worst  of  tyrants  who  would 
injure  that  sex  whom  Heaven  ordains  it  his  duty  to  pro- 
tect. 

KAKL. 

Apply  you  this  to  the  king? 

COUNT. 

To  the  king,  or  to  any  he  in  Christendom,  who  would 
use  his  power  to  oppress  the  unfortunate  !  But  come,  sir, 
we  will  not  dispute  about  a  hasty  word  —  we  have  higher 
duties  to  perform. 

KAEL. 

True,  count;  we  oppose  our  weapons  to  the  enemies 
of  our  country,  not  the  bosoms  of  our  friends.  I  say  our 
country ;  for,  although  you  were  born  in  Poland,  and  I 
in  Hungary,  Frederick  has  made  Prussia  almost  as  dear 
to  us  as  our  native  land,  tyrant  though  he  may  be. — But 
we  will  not  quarrel  about  a  single  captive,  when  the  king 
has  placed  so  many  at  the  disposal  of  those  who  fight  his 
battles.  [Trumpet  sounds  without. 


SCENE  II.]  0  R ,    AY  II  0  '  S    T  II  E    T  R  A  I  T  0  R  ?  26 T 

(Enter  HAEOLD  -with  despatches?) 

HAROLD  (to  COUNT.) 

Despatches  from  the  king.     (Aside.}  And  a  letter  from 
Sophia  Mansfield.  [Exit. 

(The  Count  receives  and  examines  dcspo.tcli.es  /  kisses  SO- 
PHIA'S letter,  and  puts  it  into  Ids  l>osom.  KARL  does 
not  notice  it.} 

DUET COUNT   AND    KARL. 

'Tis  a  soldier's  rigid  duty 

Orders  strictly  to  obey ; 
Let  not,  then,  the  smile  of  beauty 

Lure  us  from  the  camp  away. 
In  our  country's  cause  united, 

Gallantly  we  '11  take  the  field ; 
But,  the  victory  won,  delighted 

Singly  to  the  fair  we  yield ! 

Soldiers  who  have  ne'er  retreated, 

Beauty's  tear  will  sure  beguile  ; 
Hearts  that  armies  ne'er  defeated, 

Love  can  conquer  with  a  smile. 
"Who  would  strive  to  live  in  story, 

Did  not  woman's  hand  prepare 
Amaranthine  wreaths  of  glory 

"Which  the  valiant  proudly  wear ! 

[Exit  the  Count.    KARL  follows,  menacing  him. 


268  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  L 


SCENE   III. 

An  apartment  in  the  Chateau  of  the  Countess.     Enter 
the  Countess  and  FREDERICA. 

COUNTESS. 

Tour  morning  ride,  Frederica,  was  full  of  romance  — 
the  horse  of  your  groom,  you  say,  took  fright  — 

FKEDEKICA. 

Yes,  dear  mother,  and  darted  off  at  a  racing  pace ;  my 
own  also  became  unmanageable,  and  I  lost  my  presence 
of  mind.  I  should  have  been  thrown,  if  not  killed,  had 
not  a  gentleman  rushed  to  my  assistance. 

COUNTESS. 

"Who  was  he  ? 

FKEDEKICA. 

I  do  not  know. 

COUNTESS. 

"Was  he  alone  ? 

FREDERICA. 

There  was  an  elderly  person  with  him,  who  seemed  to 
be  a  foreigner. 

COUNTESS. 

But  he  was  young,  of  course  ? 

FREDERICA. 

Yes,  mother,  and  handsome  as  an  Adonis. 


SCENE  III.]          OR,    WHO'S    THE    T  R  A  I  T  0  K  ?  269 

COUNTESS. 

Yon  have  not  fallen  in  love  with  this  stranger,  surely? 
You  are  not  old  enough,  and  this  is  only  your  first  sea- 
son, Frederica. 

FEEDEEICA. 

Love  has  all  seasons  for  his  own,  dear  mother.     Listen  ! 

SONG*  —  FEEDEEICA. 

The  spring-time  of  love  is  both  happy  and  gay, 
For  Joy  sprinkles  blossoms  and  balm  in  our  way ; 
The  sky,  earth  and  ocean  in  beauty  repose, 
And  all  the  bright  future  is  couleur  de  rose. 

The  summer  of  love  is  the  bloom  of  the  heart, 
When  hill,  grove  and  valley  their  music  impart ; 
And  the  pure  glow  of  heaven  is  seen  in  fond  eyes, 
As  lakes  show  the  rainbow  that's  hung  in  the  skies ! 

The  autumn  of  love  is  the  season  of  cheer — 
Life's  mild  Indian  summer,  the  smile  of  the  year — 
"Which  comes  when  the  golden-ripe  harvest  is  stored, 
And  yields  its  own  blessings,  repose  and  reward. 

The  winter  of  love  is  the  beam  that  we  win, 

While  the  storm  howls  without,  from  the  sunshine  within. 

Love's  reign  is  eternal — the  heart  is  his  throne, 

And  he  has  all  seasons  of  life  for  his  own. 

*  This  song  was  not  written  for  the  opera ;  but  was  introduced  by  the 
composer 


270  THE   MAID   OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  I. 

COUNTESS. 

Silly,  thoughtless   girl !  —  What   strangers   are   these 
coming  up  the  avenue  ? 

FREDERICA  (looTcing  out.} 

As  I  live,  the  elderly  person  I  told  you  of,  and  the 
young  gentleman  who  risked  his  life  to  save  mine ! 
(Enter  WEDGEWOOD  and  ALBERT.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Have  I  the  honour  of  addressing  the  Countess  Laniska  ? 
(Aside.)  Flounces,  frills,  filagrees  and  furbetows,  but  she 's 

superlatively  odd ! 

COUNTESS. 

I  am  the  countess,  sir. 

WEDGEWOOD  (presenting  letters.) 

Will  your  ladyship  be  pleased  to  receive  these  letters 
of  introduction  —  if  quite  convenient? 

COUNTESS  -(receiving  letters,  and  looking  at  them.) 
Mr.  Wedgewood,  from  Esturia  and  London;  and — 

WEDGEWOOD  (introducing  ALBERT.) 
Mr.  Albert  Worrendorf. 

COUNTESS  (introducing  FREDERICA.) 
My  daughter  Frederica. 

ALBERT  (aside.) 
The  angel  we  met  by  accident  this  morning ! 

WEDGEWOOD  (aside.) 
Seraphically  odd ! 


SCEXE  III]          OR,    W  II O  'S    Til  E    TRAITOR?  271 

FREDEEICA  (to  ALBERT.) 

We  have  seen  each  other  before,  Mr.  Worrendorf. 

ALBERT. 

To  my  great  happiness,  madam. 

(ALBERT  and  FREDERIC  A  converse  apart.) 

COUNTESS  (to  WEDGEWOOD.) 

It  was  very  kind  in  my  correspondent,  Mr.  Wedge- 
wood,  to  introduce  a  gentleman  of  your  celebrity  to  my 
chateau. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

You  do  me  honour,  madam.  We  Englishmen  are  plain- 
spoken  people.  We  are  not  unlike  our  earthenware  — 
delf  and  common  clay  mixed  together.  If  our  outsides 
are  sometimes  rough,  all  within  is  smooth  and  polished 
as  the  best  of  work.  It  is  the  purest  spirit,  which,  like 
the  finest  china,  lets  the  light  shine  through  it.  (Aside.) 
Not  a  bad  compliment  to  myself,  and  metaphorically  odd ! 

COUNTESS. 

Your  reply  reminds  me  of  the  object  of  your  visit. 
The  Prussians  are  very  proud  of  the  manufactory  which 
has  claimed  the  attention  of  the  king. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Oh,  how  I  long  to  see  the  great  Frederick ! 

COUNTESS. 

¥"ou  will  like  him,  I  am  confident. 


272  THE    M  A  I  D    OF    S  A  X  0  X  Y :  [Acr  I. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

I  don't  know  that.  I  don't  at  all  fancy  his  edict. — 
"What !  marry  a  parcel  of  handsome,  innocent,  industri- 
ous girls  to  his  great  whiskered  horse-guards,  whether 
they  will  or  no?  It's  a  piece  of  moral  turpitude  —  an 
insult  to  common  sense  —  and  infamously  odd  — 

FEEDEBICA  (advancing.) 

Have  a  care,  Mr.  "Wedge wood — have  a  care  how  you 
talk  about  the  king.  He  possesses  a  sort  of  magical  ubi- 
quity—  and  is  here,  there  and  everywhere  at  the  same 
moment. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

How  does  he  manage  that? 

FEEDEEICA. 

He  wanders  about  in  secrecy  and  disguise  —  enters  all 
kinds  of  mansions  —  and  often  overhears  conversations 
that  were  never  intended  for  the  court.  By  this  means, 
it  is  said,  he  gathers  information  from  every  nook  and 
corner  of  his  kingdom. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Strange  kind  of  hocus-pocus  work  for  a  monarch !  — 
Peri  pate  tically  odd ! 

ALBEET. 

I  have  been  told  that  he  knows  more  of  the  character 
and  condition  of  his  subjects  and  soldiers  than  they  do 
themselves. 


SCENE  III.]          OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  273 

COUNTESS. 

And  lie  never  knows  of  a  wrong  done  among  his  peo- 
ple that  he  does  not  instantly  redress  —  though  it  often 
puzzles  them  to  learn  how  he  arrives  at  his  knowledge 
of  the  facts.  Many  think  him  a  wizard. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

And  not  without  reason,  madam.  Xever  before  have 
I  heard  of  such  a  compound  of  sagacity,  courage  and 
eccentricity.  Oh,  I  am  all  in  a  glow  to  see  and  converse 
with  the  jolly  old  boy ! 

(Enter  Count  LANISKA.) 
COUNTESS  (introducing  him.) 
My  son,  the  Count  Laniska,  will  present  you  to  his 

majesty. 

WEDGEWOOD  (bowing  to  COUNT.) 

If  it  is  convenient.  (Aside.}  Most  martially  and  uni- 
formly odd !  (To  LANISKA.)  But,  first,  I  should  like  to 
have  a  glimpse  at  the  factory. 

COUNT. 

I  shall  be  happy  to  show  it  to  you.  There  is  one  ex- 
traordinary subject  connected  with  it,  that  will  surprise 
you  both — a  young  girl  of  singular  talent  and  beauty — 

FREDEKICA. 

Ah,  brother !  upon  your  favourite  theme  again.  That 
young  girl  occupies  more  of  your  thoughts  than  all  the 
porcelain  in  these  dominions. 


274  THE    MAID    OF   SAXOXY:  [Acr  I 

ALBERT  (aside.) 
Poor  Sophia ! 

FREDERICA  (observing  that  the  Count  looks  thoughtful.) 
"Why,  what's  the  matter  with  you,  brother? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

He  is  no  doubt  studying  the  mixture  of  different  kinds 
of  clay,  and  contriving  a  furnace  that  will  not  destroy  it 
by  too  much  heat.  Ingeniously  odd ! 

COUNT. 

You  are  mistaken,  sir.  I  was  thinking  at  what  time  I 
should  have  the  pleasure  of  waiting  upon  you. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

I  will  be  at  your  service  as  soon  as  I  have  had  time  to 
adjust  my  outward  and  refresh  my  inward  man. — Neces- 
sarily odd !  (Seeing  the  Countess  about  to  retire.)  Mad- 
am, allow  me  (takes  her  hand) — If  it  is  convenient. 

[Exit  WEDGEWOOD  and  Countess. 

FREDEKICA  (to  COUNT.) 

Now,  brother,  that  the  countess  has  retired,  pray  fa- 
vour us  with  your  confidence.  You  need  not  mind  Mr. 
"Worrendorf — I  have  told  him  all  about  Sophia  Mans- 
field.— I  love  that  poor  girl  myself,  not  less  for  her  mis- 
fortunes than  her  genius. 

ALBERT. 

I  love  her  too — 


III]        OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  275 


FREDERICA  (aside.) 

Oh,  dear  !  what  's  the  matter  with  me  ?  My  head  turns 
round  —  I  am  ready  to  drop  ! 

COUNT  (with  emotion!) 
You  love  her  !     Wherefore  ? 

ALBERT. 

She  is  my  countrywoman,  and  for  that  I  love  her. 
FREDERICA  (recovering.) 

Well,  gentlemen,  I  must  say  this  is  very  ungallant  in 
you  both  to  be  praising  one  lady  so  highly  when  there  is 
another  in  the  room.  (Aside.)  Oh,  dear  me,  how  near  I 
came  betraying  myself! 

ALBERT. 

/ 

Your  pardon,  my  dear  madam.  When  I  look  at  you, 
I  almost  forget  there  is  another  woman  in  the  world. 
(Kisses  FREDERICA'S  hand,  who  turns  away  in  evident 
confusion.)  —  But  for  the  present  I  must  leave  you,  to  join 

Mr.  Wedgewood.  [Exit. 

COUNT  (noticing  them.) 

(Aside.)  So,  so,  Frederica  —  fairly  caught,  I  perceive! 
(To  FREDERICA.)  Ah,  sister,  sister  !  as  in  all  things  else, 
there  is  a  destiny  in  love. 

DUET  -  LANISKA  A5O)  FREDERICA. 

From  my  fate  there  's  no  retreating  — 

Love  commands,  and  I  obey  ; 
How  with  joy  my  heart  is  beating 

At  the  fortunes  of  to-day  ! 


276  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  L 

Life  is  filled  with  strange  romances  — 

Love  is  blind,  the  poets  say ; 
When  he  comes  unsought,  the  chance  is 

Of  his  own  accord  he  '11  stay. 

Love  can  ne'er  be  forced  to  tarry ; 

Chain  him — he'll  the  bonds  remove : 
Paired,  not  matched,  too  many  marry — 

All  should  wed  alone  for  love. 
Let  him  on  the  bridal-even 

Trim  his  lamp  with  constant  ray ; 
And  the  flame  will  light  to  heaven, 

When  the  world  shall  fade  away ! 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE    IV. 

The  whole  depth  of  the  stage  is  made  use  of  in  this  scene, 
which  represents  an  open  country.  A  Camp  and  Sol- 
diers at  a  distance.  Music.  Enter  HANS,  GERTRUDE 
and  Peasantry :  Lads  and  Lasses  dancing. 

CHORUS   OF   PEASANTS. 

Lads  and  lasses,  trip  away 
To  the  cheerful  roundelay ! 
At  the  sound  of  tambourine, 
Care  is  banished  from  the  scene, 


SCENE  IV.]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  277 

And  a  happy  train  we  bound, 
To  the  pipe  and  tabour's  sound. 

Merrily,  merrily,  trip  away, 

"I is  a  nation's  holiday ! 

Merrily,  merrily,  merrilie, 

Bound  with  spirits  light  and  free ! 

Let's  be  jocund  while  we  may ; 
And  dance  —  dance  —  dance  — 

And  dance  the  happy  hours  away ! 

When  the  gleaming  line  shall  come, 
To  the  sound  of  trump  and  drum ; 
Headed  by  advancing  steeds, 
Whom  the  king  in  person  leads — 
Let  us  hail  him  in  his  state, 
For  the  king's  both  good  and  great! 

Merrily,  merrily,  trip  away, 

'Tis  a  nation's  holiday ! 

Merrily,  merrily,  merrilie, 

Bound  with  spirits  light  and  free ! 

Let's  be  jocund  now  we  may, 
And  dance  —  dance — dance — 

And  dance  the  happy  hours  away ! 

(Immediately  after  chorus,  a  grand  march  is  commenced 
in  the  distance,  which  lecomes  more  and  more  distinct 
as  the  troops  advance.  The  Peasants  form  in  groups. 
HANS  speaks  during  the  first  part  of  the  march.) 


278  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Aor  L 

HANS. 

Here  we  are,  Gertrude,  many  miles  from  our  own  vil- 
lage— and  all  for  vat?    To  please  you — '(aside]  and  to 
shell  a  few  colours  to  der  artishes,  vich  I  pring  along  mit 
me  for  der  purpose  :  but  I  need  not  tell  her  dat. — Here, 
stand  aside,  and  don't  be  looking  after  de  sholders ! 
(GERTRUDE  and  HANS  stand  aside.     Grand  march.    En- 
ter a  corps  of  Grenadiers  and  other  troops,  who  form 
on  the  right  of  the  stage.    Soil  of  drums.     The  troops 
present  arms.    Enter  FREDERICK,  in  a  furious  passion, 
followed  by  general  and  staff  Officers,  and  Count  LA- 
NISKA.     The  King  acknowledges  the  salute,  lifts  his 
hat)  and  puts  it  on  again  furiously.    HAROLD  and 
Corporal  are  in  the  ranks  of  the  Grenadiers.    Through- 
out the  scene  the  King  speaks  hurriedly?) 

KING. 
General ! 

FIRST   GENERAL. 

Your  Majesty.        . 

KING. 

How  comes  it  there  is  such  a  lack  of  discipline  in  your 
division?  Disband  that  regiment  at  once,  and  draft  a 
few  of  the  men  from  the  right  wing  into  other  regiments 
ordered  for  immediate  service !  The  sooner  they  are  shot 
the  better ! 

FIRST  GENERAL. 

Yes,  sire.  \Exit. 


Bonos  IV.]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    T 11  A I  T  0  IU  279 

KING. 

Generals  —  most  of  you  have  served  the  greater  part 
of  your  lives  with  me.  We  have  grown  gray-headed  in 
the  service  of  our  country,  and  we  therefore  know  best 
ourselves  the  dangers,  difficulties  and  glory  in  which  we 
have  shared.  While  we  maintain  the  discipline  of  the 
army,  we  may  defy  any  power  that  Europe  can  march 
against  us — relax  that,  and  we  become  an  easy  prey  to 
the  spoiler. 

SECOND    GENERAL. 

Your  majesty  shall  have  no  cause  of  complaint  in  fu- 
ture. 

KING. 

Make  sure  of  that!  —  Soldiers,  I  rely  in  my  operations 
entirely  upon  your  well-known  zeal  in  my  service,  and  I 
shall  acknowledge  it  with  gratitude  as  long  as  I  live ; 
but  at  the  same  time  I  require  of  you  that  you  look  upon 
it  as  your  most  sacred  duty  to  show  kindness  and  mercy 
to  all  prisoners  that  the  fortunes  of  war  may  throw  in 
your  power. 

SECOND   GENERAL. 

That  duty,  sire,  you  have  taught  us  all  our  lives. 

KING  (taking  snuff '.) 

Good!  —  Have  any  of  my  grenadiers  anything  to  say 
to  me  before  the  parade  is  dismissed  ? 

HAROLD  (recovering  arms.) 
Your  Majesty! 


280  THE    MAID    OF   SAXOXY:  [Acr  L 

KING. 

Speak  out,  Harold. 

HAROLD. 

The  grenadiers  have  noticed  with  deep  regret  that  you 
fatigue  yourself  of  late  too  much  with  the  cares  of  the 
army.  We  protest  against  it  — 


Zounds  and  fury!  —  Here's  rebellion!     You  protest 

against  it  ? 

HAROLD  (bluntly!) 

"We  do.    You  are  getting  to  be  an  old  man  —  a  very 
old  man  —  and  are  too  much  afoot. 

KING. 
I  can  do  as  I  like  about  it,  I  suppose  ? 

HAROLD. 

Certainly  not;  and  you  will,  therefore,  in  future,  be 
good  enough  to  use  your  carriage  more  and  your  legs 

less. 

KING. 

"What  do  the  grenadiers  fear  f 
HAROLD. 

"We  fear  nothing  but  the  loss  of  your  health,  the  loss 
of  your  life,  or  the  loss  of  your  favour,  sire. 

KING. 

Don't  you  fear  the  loss  of  my  temper  at  your  bluntness 

—  eh,  old  comrade? 

HAROLD. 

No,  sire  ;  we  know  you  like  it. 


SCENE  IV.]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  281 

KING. 

I  do  indeed.  You  are  in  the  right,  my  brave  com- 
patriots— for  my  advanced  age  and  increasing  infirmi- 
ties admonish  me  that  I  shall  be  under  the  necessity  of 
following  your  advice.  But  on  the  day  of  battle,  you 
shall  see  me  on  horseback — on  horseback — and  in  the 
thickest  of  the  fight !  (Crosses  the  stage,  as  a  Burgomas- 
ter enters,  kneels  and  presents  a  petition.)  "What  have 
we  here  ? 

BURGOMASTER. 

Sire  —  the  common  council  has  imprisoned  a  citizen, 
upon  an  accusation  that  he  has  sinned  against  heaven, 
the  king,  and  the  right  worshipful  the  common  council. 
We  humbly  beg  to  know  what  Your  Majesty's  pleasure 
is  with  regard  to  the  punishment  of  so  unparalleled  and 
atrocious  an  offender? 

KING. 

If  the  prisoner  has  sinned  against  heaven,  and  is  not  a 
fool  or  a  madman,  he  will  make  his  peace  with  it  without 
delay.  That  is  a  Power  (talcing  off  his  hat — all  the  char- 
acters make  their  obeisance)  that  kings  themselves  must 
bow  to  in  reverential  awe.  (Resumes  his  hat.) 

BURGOMASTER. 

But  he  has  also  sinned  against  your  high  and  mighty 

majesty — 

KING. 
Tush,  tush,  man ! 


282  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  L 

BURGOMASTER  (profoundly!) 
On  my  official  veracity,  sire ! 

KING. 
"Well,  well,  for  that  I  pardon  him — 

BURGOMASTER. 

And  he  has  likewise  sinned  against  the  right  worship- 
ful the  common  council. 

KING. 
The  reprobate !  — 

BURGOMASTER. 

It  is  most  veritable.  Your  Majesty — 
KING. 

Well,  for  that  terrible  and  enormous  offence,  it  becomes 
my  solemn  duty  to  make  an  example  of  so  abominable 
a  culprit,  and  to  punish  him  in  a  most  exemplary  man- 
ner. Therefore — 

BURGOMASTER. 

Yes,  Your  Majesty — 

KING. 
Send  him  to  the  castle  of  Spandau,  to  be  imprisoned — 

BURGOMASTER. 

i 

Your  Majesty — 

KING. 
For  at  least — 

BURGOMASTER. 

Sire — 


SCENE  IV.]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  283 

KING. 

Half  an  hour  (Peasantry  laugh  f] — and  afterward  he  is 
at  liberty  to  go  to  the  devil  his  own  way ;  and  the  right 
worshipful  the  common  council  may  go  with  him,  if  they 
like! 

(Exit  Burgomaster.  As  he  goes  out,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders, all  the  Peasantry  laugh,  until  checked  l>y  a  look 
from  the  King,  who  crosses  the  stage  to  the  Grenadiers, 
and  addresses  the  Corporal  who  has  his  watch-riband 

suspended.) 

KING. 

Corporal !     (He  advances  and  recovers  arms.) 

CORPORAL. 
Your  Majesty ! 

KING. 

I  have  often  noticed  you  in  the  field.  Tou  are  a  brave 
soldier — and  a  prudent  one  too,  to  have  saved  enough 
from  your  pay  to  buy  yourself  a  watch. 

HAROLD  (aside  to  CORPORAL.) 
You  remember  what  I  told  you  about  a  hawk's  eye. 

CORPORAL. 

Brave  I  flatter  myself  I  am ;  but  as  to  my  watch,  it  is 
of  little  signification. 
KING  (seizing  and  pulling  out  a  bullet  fastened  to  the 

Corporal's  watch-riband?) 
Why,  this  is  not  a  watch !  — It's  a  bullet ! 


284:  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  I. 

CORPORAL. 

It's  the  only  watch  I  have,  Your  Majesty ;  but  I  have 
not  worn  it  entirely  out  of  vanity — 

KING. 

What  have  you  worn  it  for,  then  ?  It  does  not  show 
you  the  time  of  day  ! 

CORPORAL. 
No ;  but  it  clearly  shows  me  the  death  I  am  to  die  in 

Your  Majesty's  service. 

KING. 

"Well  said,  my  brave  fellow !  And  that  you  may  like- 
wise see  the  hour  among  the  twelve  in  which  you  are  to 
die,  I  will  give  you  my  watch.  Take  it,  and  wear  it  for 
my  sake,  corporal.  (The  King  gives  the  Corporal  his 

watch.} 

CORPORAL  (with  emotion} 

It  will  also  teach  me  that  at  any  moment  Your  Majesty 
may  command  my  life. 

HAROLD  (enthusiastically} 
And  the  lives  of  us  all !     Long  live  the  king ! 
(Flourish  of  drums.    The  King  acknowledges  the  salute} 

KING  (to  Grenadiers.) 

You,  my  brave  fellows,  are  my  own  guards.  I  can  rely 
upon  you.  There  is  no  want  of  discipline  here — eh,  Gen- 
eral? Notwithstanding  all  my  annoyances,  I  am  the 
happiest  king  in  Christendom ! 


SCENE  IV.]          OR,    WHO'S    THE    T  11  A  I  T  0  R  ?  285 

CHOKUS. 

(Grenadiers  and  all  the  Characters.) 

All  kail  the  king !  —  Long  live  the  king ! 

Our  hope  in  peace  and  war ! 
"With  his  renown  let  Prussia  ring !  — 

Hurrah !  hurrah !  hurrah  ! 
He  is  the  pillar  of  the  state ! 

Our  sword  and  buckler  he ! 
Heaven  give  to  Frederick  the  Great 

Eternal  victory ! 

(The  Grenadiers  cheer.  The  Officers  close  about  the  King. 
Flourish  and  tableau.  The  act-drop  descends  on  the 
picture!) 


END    OF    THE   FIRST    ACT. 


286  THE    MAID    OF    SAXON  T:  [Acr  II. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE   I. 

Discovered.  The  stage  represents  a  large  apartment  with- 
out the  usual  side-entrances.  On  the  left  hand  is  a 
row  of  long,  old-fashioned  windows,  with  painting- 
screens  so  arranged  as  to  let  the  light  fall  obliquely 
on  the  tables  beneath  •  at  which  the  Factory-Girls  are 
seated,  employed  in  painting  various  articles  of  porce- 
lain. SOPHIA  MANSFIELD  is  seated  at  the  table  nearest 
the  audience.  On  the  right  are  separate  tables,  at 
which  Girls  are  employed  mixing  and  grinding  col- 
ours. In  the  centre  of  the  stage  is  a  small  platform, 
on  which  a  number  of  painted  vases,  ready  for  the 
oven,  are  placed.  EAEL  is  engaged  in  examining  them. 
At  the  rear  of  the  stage  is  the  entrance  to  the  room — 
a  large,  open  door — on  each  side  of  which  are  rows 
of  shelves,  filled  with  vases,  bowls,  plates,  jars,  mantel- 
ornaments  and  the  like,  put  there  to  dry.  The  whole 
representing  the  painting-room  of  the  Royal  Porce- 
lain-Factory. Through  the  doors  the  furnaces  are 
seen,  on  which  the  porcelain  is  placed  to  set  the  col- 


SCENE  I]  OR,    WHO'S    T II  E    TRAITOR?  287 

ours,  and  which  several  Workmen  are  attending.     The 
curtain  rises  slowly  to  the  music. 

CHORUS. 
(German  air.) 

Home,  home,  home  — 

Dear,  lost  home ! 
Though  here  we  pine  in  slavery, 
Our  hearts  are  all  in  Saxony, 

Our  girlhood's  happy  home ! 
Land  of  the  free  and  bold, 
To  hopeless  bondage  sold ! 
"While  abject  toil  and  fear 
Enchain  thy  daughters  here, 

"We  yearn  for  thee, 

O  Saxony ! — 
For  freedom,  love  and  home ! 

(The  Girls  attempt  to  waltz  to  the  music /  l)ut,  overcome 
~by  their  feelings,  they  resume  their  tasks.) 

SOLO — SOPHIA. 

Home,  home,  home — 

Dear,  lost  home ! 

Though  cares  oppress  us  fearfully, 
We  exiles  carol  cheerfully 

Of  girlhood's  happy  home ! 


288  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  JL 

Beneath  our  native  sky 
The  hours  went  swiftly  by  ; 
While  on  a  foreign  soil, 
Our  youth  consumes  in  toil ! 
"We  yearn  for  thee, 
O  Saxony ! — 

For  freedom,  love  and  home ! 
(The  Girls  attempt  to  waltz,  as  before,  <&c.) 

CHOEUS. 

Home,  home,  home,  &c. 
(The  "Workmen  and  the  Girls  resume  their  tasks.) 

(Enter  Count  LANISKA,  ALBERT,  and  WEDGEWOOD.) 
WEDGEWOOD  (looking  around,  and  speaking  enthusiasti- 
cally as  he  enters?) 

Admirable,  upon  my  word !  Every  department  better 
than  the  last,  and  this  the  best  of  all !  Never  saw  any- 
thing like  it.  The  colours  brilliant — the  designs  exquis- 
itely classical — "a  place  for  everything,  and  everything 
in  its  place  I" 

COUNT. 

Whatever  His  Majesty  constructs,  whether  a  fortress 
or  a  factory,  is  perfect  in  all  its  details. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Yet  look  around  you,  and  read  your  monarch's  history 
in  the  eyes  of  these  prisoners  of  war.  Observe  that  pic- 
ture of  melancholy  (pointing  to  SOPHIA,  who,  during  the 


SCENE  I]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  2S9 

scene,  has  l>een  leaning  dejectedly  on  her  hand — IVARL 
standing  ly  her  side.}  How  reluctantly  she  pursues  her 
task !  Our  English  manufacturers  work  in  quite  another 
manner,  for  they  are  free  ! 

KARL. 

And  are  free  men  or  free  women  never  indisposed  ?  — 
or  do  you  Englishmen  blame  your  king  whenever  any 
of  his  subjects  turn  pale?  The  woman  at  whom  you  are 
looking  is  evidently  ill. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Then  fie  upon  your  inhumanity  for  making  a  poorr 
sick  girl  work  when  she  seems  scarcely  able  to  hold  up 
her  head !  (Aside.)  I  don't  half  like  that  fellow !  Yil- 
lanously  odd. 

ALBERT  (to  SOPHIA.) 

My  poor  girl,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  The  over- 
seer says  that  since  you  came  here,  you  have  done  noth- 
ing worthy  of  your  pencil.  Yet  this  charming  piece 
(pointing  to  an  ornament  of  her  painting] — which  was 
brought  from  Saxony,  is  of  your  design  —  is  it  not? 

SOPHIA. 

ifes,  sir,  it  was  my  misfortune  to  paint  it.  If  the  king 
had  never  seen  or  liked  it,  I  should  now  be — 

ALBERT. 

In  Saxony ;  bnt  forget  that  country,  and  you  may  be 
happy  in  this. 


290  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  IL 

SOPHIA. 

I  cannot  forget  it! — I  cannot  forget  everybody  that  I 
ever  loved.  Ask  not  a  Saxon  woman  to  forget  her  coun- 
try! 

ALBEKT. 

Whom  do  you  love  in  Saxony  now? 
SOPHIA. 

"Whom  do  I  not  love  in  Saxony?  I  have  a  brother 
there,  whom  I  have  not  seen  since  childhood.  He  was 
at  college  when  I  was  carried  off  from  the  cottage  in 
which  we  both  were  born.  He  is  ignorant  of  my  fate. 
(She  regards  ALBERT  with  great  attention,  and  examines 
Ms  features  minutely!) 

ALBERT. 

Why  do  you  gaze  upon  me  so  intently  ? 
SOPHIA. 

I  know  not  why,  sir ;  but  you  seemed  even  now  a  dear 
heart-cherished  one,  whom  I  have  wished  for  long  and 
anxiously. 

ALBERT. 

Think  me  that  one  and  trust  me. 
SOPHIA. 

I  will — for  there's  a  cherub  nestling  in  my  heart, 
which  whispers,  "  You  are  here  to  save  me !"  (ALBERT 
leads  her  to  her  task,  which  she  resumes  in  great  dejec- 
tion of  spirits.) 


SCENE  I]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  291 

WEDGEWOOD  (to   KARL). 

Is  that  poor  girl  often  thus  ? 

KAEL. 

She  sits  as  you  see  her,  like  one  stupified,  half  the  day. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

The  cause  of  this — if  it  is  convenient? 

KAEL. 

She  has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  a  soldier  (glancing  at  SO- 
PHIA)— who  swears,  if  she  delays  another  day  to  marry 
him,  that  he  will  complain  to  the  king. 

COUNT  (turning  furiously  upon  KAEL.) 
"Wretch !  (seizes  him.} 

KAEL  (throwing  him  off.} 

This  insult  will  cost  you  dear!  Your  scorn  for  the 
king's  commands — • 

COUNT  (scornfully.} 

I  had  forgotten.  (Releases  him}  You  are  a  mere  in- 
strument in  the  hands  of  a  tyrant ! 

KARL  (aside.} 
That  word  again !  — 

SOPHIA  (running  between  them,  and  throwing  herself  at 

the  feet  of  LANISKA.) 

Save  me !  save  me !  You  can  save  me !  You  are  a 
powerful  lord,  and  can  speak  to  the  king !  Save  me  from 
this  detested  marriage ! 


292  THE    MAID    OF    S  A  X  O  X  Y :  [Acr  IL 

KAKL  (aside  to  SOPHIA.) 
Are  you  mad  ? 
COUNT  (raising  SOPHIA,  who  clings  to  him,  and  shrinks 

from  KAKL.) 
I  will  do  so,  or  perish  in  the  attempt ! 

KAKL  (aside.) 

Ah !  say  you  so  ?    Then  the  king  shall  know  his  ene- 
my and  mine  !  [Exit. 
WEDGEWOOD  (noticing  KAKL  go  off?) 

Whew!  There's  mischief  brewing!  If  that  Mack- 
muzzled  rascal  is  not  hatching  trouble  for  us  all,  I'll 
never  trust  my  seven  senses  again  !  I  wonder  they  per- 
mit such  a  bear  to  go  at  large  in  a  garden  like  this — 
he'll  root  up  flowers  as  well  as  weeds. — Dangerously 
odd! 
(Trumpet  sounds  without,  and  a  l)uzz  and  hum  as  if  of 

(a  distant  crowd  /  the  noise  comes  near  the  Factory?) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

"What 's  afoot  now,  I-  wonder  ? 

ALBERT. 

Some  new  freak,  no  doubt,  of  this  eccentric  monarch. 
(Noises.) 

WEDGEWOOD  (Looking  out.) 

The  town  is  all  astir  (noise  louder) — humming  and 
buzzing  like  a  hive  of  bees !    (Noise,  and  distant  shouts) 


SCENE  I]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  293 

And  yonder  comes  a  fussy  little  burgomaster,  with  a 

proclamation,  and  a  crowd  of  noisy  citizens  at  bis  heels 

—  odd !  [Noise  and  shouts  increase. 

(SOPHIA  and  the  other  Girls  and  the  "Workmen  leave  their 

occupations,  as  if  anxious  to  learn  the  cause  of  the 

uproar.     When  the  buzzing,  huzzaing  and  noise  reach, 

the  Factory,  loud  sound  of  the  trumpet?) 

BURGOMASTER  (without?) 

Make  way  there,  good  people — make  way  there  for 
the  royal  herald !  (The  Burgomaster  bustles  in  with  the 
Herald  —  the  crowd  following  and  surrounding  him  — 
noises?)  Stand  back  (using  his  wand]  —  stand  back,  you 
idle,  ragged  tatterdemalions,  and  pay  all  due  reverence 
to  the  constituted  authorities!  (laughter)  —  for  know  all 
men  by  these  presents  (very  pompously?)  that  I  represent 
the  king !  (laughter?) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

"What  a  figure  for  the  part !  (laughter.} 
BURGOMASTER  (smartly  striking  with  his  wand  one  who 
laughs  louder  than  the  rest?) 

Take  that,  and  let  it  teach  you  better  manners  in  fu- 
ture, you  scarecrow! — Now  draw  near,  good  people, 
and  be  dumb !  Lend  me  all  your  ears !  — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

You  have  ears  enough  already  for  any  two-legged  ani- 
mal— 


294:  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [ACT  IL 

BURGOMASTER. 

While  I,  by  virtue  of  my  office  as  a  magistrate,  pub- 
lish this  important  document!  (SOPHIA  conies  forward?) 

CITIZEN  (eagerly.) 
Now  for  it! 

BURGOMASTER  (hitting  him  smartly  over  the  head.) 
You  will,  will  you? — Hish!  This  paper  is  big  with 
information  to  the  whole  realm ;  but  more  especially  to 
the  daughters  of  Saxony.  (SOPHIA  and  the  Girls  of  the 
Factory,  by  looks  and  actions,  evince  great  interest  in  the 
reading  of  the  paper.) 

BURGOMASTER. 

Hish !  (To  Herald.)  Now  proceed  in  regular  order, 
and  according  to  ancient  form  and  usage,  to  read  the 
royal  proclamation !  — Hish  !  (Hands  paper  to  Herald.) 

HERALD  (reads) 

"By  the  grace  of  God,  we,  Frederick  the  Second,  King 
of  Prussia,  hereby  make  known  that  we  will  give  free- 
dom— " 

SOPHIA  (eagerly  aside.) 

Freedom  ?    (Listens  with  anxiety.) 

HERALD. 

"And  a  reward  of  five  hundred  crowns  to  the  Artist 
who  shall  produce  the  most  beautifully-designed  and 
highly-finished  enamelled  porcelain  vase  of  Berlin  chi- 
na} and  permit  her  to  marry  whomsoever  she  shall  think 
proper" 


SCENE  L]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  295 

SOPHIA  (aside  and  joyfully?) 

Hear  I  aright  ?  (The  Girls  of  the  Factory  show  great 
joy  at  this?) 

HERALD. 

"  The  Artist's  name  shall  be  inscribed  upon  the  vase, 
which  shall  be  called  '  The  Prussian  Vase?  " 

SOPHIA  (aside.} 
Oh,  happy,  happy  news ! 

HERALD. 

"Signed  at  the  Sans  Souci — 

"BY  THE  KING." 

OMNES. 

Hu — z — z — a — a — h — a — a — a — a !  (Amid  the  shouts 
and  general  joy  of  the  Girls,  the  Burgomaster  bustles  outy 
using  his  wand  frequently,  and  speaking  all  the  while  / 
the  Herald  following,  and  the  Citizens  buzzing  and  huz- 
zaing as  before.}  Silence,  you  nondescript  villains! — • 
Silence,  I  say !  You  stun  me  with  your  uproar !  (Loud 
shout. — Passionately}  Oh,  shut  your  ugly  mugs !  (Strikes 
them} 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Mugs !  I  like  that.  He 's  in  the  crockery-trade,  like 
myself. 

SOPHIA  (with  joy.} 

This  proclamation  has  animated  me  with  new  life  and 
energy.  I  feel  like  one  inspired ! 


296  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [ACT  U 

COUNT. 

"What  mean  you  ? 

SOPHIA. 
To  become  a  competitor  for  the  prize. 

ALBERT. 

You  will  have  many  opponents. 

SOPHIA. 
I  heed  them  not. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

All  will  be  zeal  throughout  the  manufactory. 

SOPHIA. 
So  much  the  greater  need  for  my  perseverance. 

ALBERT. 

Some  will  be  excited  with  the  hope  of  gaining  their 
liberty. 

SOPHIA. 
Oh,  blessed  hope ! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Some  stimulated  by  the  crowns. — "Not  at  all  odd. — • 
It  would  be  odd  if  they  were  not ! 

SOPHIA. 
But  none  have  so  strong  a  motive  for  exertion  as  I 

have. 

COUNT  (with  enthusiasm.} 

Nobly  resolved !     I  will  assist  you  with  every  faculty 
I  possess. 


SCENE  I.]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  297 

ALBEET  (with  the  same  feeling?) 
And  I! 

WEDGEWOOD  (with  the  same.} 
And  all!  —  If  it  is  convenient. 

SOPHIA  (joyfully) 

Then  doubt  not  my  success.  (Exit  LAXISKA,  ALBERT 
and  WEDGEWOOD.)  Oh,  how  my  heart  bounds  with  the 
thoughts  of  once  more  seeing  Saxony !  Its  mountains, 
torrents,  vineyards,  are  all  before  me  now !  And  then 
our  native  songs ! — They  steal  into  my  heart  and  melt  it. 

SONG   AXD    CHOKUS. 

(German  air) 

SOPHIA   AND   FACTOBY-GIELS. 

Sky,  stream,  moorland  and  mountain, 

Tree,  cot,  spire  and"  dome, 
Breeze,  bird,  vineyard  and  fountain, 
Kindred,  friends,  country  and  home!  — 

Home,  home,  home,  home !  — 
These  are  the  blessings  of  home ! 
(The  Factory-G-irls  now  waltz  cheerfully  to  the  music) 

Hope  how  fondly  I  cherish, 

Dear  land,  to  see  thee  once  more ! 

O  Fate !  let  me  not  perish 
Far  from  my  own  native  shore ! 


298  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  II. 

Home,  home,  home,  home  !  — 
Saxony,  Liberty's  home  ! 
(The  Girls  waltz  as  before, 


Those  who  freedom  inherit, 

Bow  not  to  Tyranny's  throne  ; 
Then,  friends,  in  a  kind  spirit, 

Judge  of  my  love  by  your  own. 
Home,  home,  home,  home  !  — 

The  land  of  the  heart  is  our  home  ! 

(They  all  waltz  with  great  spirit  until  the  scene  closes.) 


SCENE    II. 

A  Street  in  Berlin.    Enter  FREDERICK  in  a  cloak — KAKL 
following. 

KING. 

Those  who  have  the  command  of  motives,  and  know 
their  power,  have  also  the  command  of  all  that  the 
arts,  or  what  is  called  a  genius  for  the  arts,  can  produce. 
The  human  mind  and  human  ingenuity  are  much  the 
same  in  Italy,  England  and  Prussia.  Then  why  should 
not  we  have  a  Prussian  as  well  as  a  "Wedgewood  or  a 
Barbarini  vase?  We  shall  see.  I  do  not  understand 
mon  metier  de  roi,  if  I  cannot  call  forth  talents  where  I 


SCENE  II.]  OR,    WHO'S    T  II  E    TRAITOR?  299 

know  them  to  exist.     (To  KARL.)  And  so  the  count  de- 
nounced me  for  a  tyrant,  did  he,  Karl? 

KAKL. 

He  did,  Your  Majesty. 

KING. 

He 's  a  mere  stripling ;  and  I  permit  boys  and  fools  to 
speak  of  me  as  they  list.  But  I  am  no  tyrant,  Karl! 
He  might  have  spared  me  that.  (Musingly.}  Tyrant!  — 

KARL  (aside.} 
It  rankles  deeply. 

KING  (recovering  from  Ms  meditation} 
Youth  and  inexperience — to  say  nothing  of  love  — 
pshaw!  —  which  is  the  root  of  all  folly — shall  be  his 
apology  this  time :  but  let  him  beware  how  he  offends 

again — 

KAKL  (aside} 

It  moves  him  as  I  intended. 

KING. 
No,  I  am  no  tyrant.     I  should  not  be  branded  with 

such  a  title ! 

KAEL  (startled} 
Branded,  Your  Majesty? 

KING. 

"What  has  happened,  Karl  ?  You  are  as  pale  as  ashes  1 
What  mystery  is  here  ?  I  am  to  be  trusted. 


300  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [ ACT  II. 

KAKL. 

Your  Majesty  was  ever  kind ;  and  if  I  might — 

KING. 

Might!  You  may.  Speak  freely  to  your  sovereign  — 
your  friend  —  and  tell  me  what  it  is  that  weighs  upon 
your  mind. 

SONG KAKL. 

Dared  these  lips  my  sad  story  impart, 
What  relief  it  would  give  to  my  heart ! 
Though  the  scenes  of  past  years,  as  they  rise, 
Bring  the  dews  of  remorse  to  my  eyes, 
Yet,  oh  hear  me,  and  ever  conceal 
What  in  agony  now  I  reveal !  — 

KING. 
Speak  freely,  Karl  — 

KAKL. 
And  behold,  while  I  throw  off  the  mask ! 

Ah,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no  — 
I  shrink  in  despair  from  the  task ! 

In  the  page  of  my  life  there  appears 
A  sad  passage  that's  written  in  tears ! 
Could  but  that  be  erased,  I  would  give 
All  the  remnant  of  days  I  may  live : 
Yet  the  cause  of  the  cloud  on  my  brow 
I  have  never  disclosed  until  now — 


SCENE  II.]          OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  301 

KIXG. 

Say  on,  Karl — • 

KARL. 

Here  behold !  — It  is  branded  in  flame ! 

Ah,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no  — 
I  shrink  in  despair  from  my  shame  ! 

[KARL  rushes  out. 
KING. 

There  is  a  mystery  about  that  fellow  that  I  cannot  un- 
derstand. — "Whom  have  we  here  ?  Oh,  the  English  trav- 
eller who  is  in  such  a  good  humour  with  my  manufac- 
tory, and  who  has  such  strange  notions  respecting  me. 
Good  —  good !  {Draws  his  cloak  about  him  and  retires. 

(Enter  WEDGE\VOOD.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

I  begin  to  perceive  that  I  shall  get  into  some  confound- 
ed scrape  if  I  stay  here  much  longer,  and  so  will  my 
young  friend  Mr.  Worrendorf,  who  has  made  me  his  con- 
fidant :  but  mum 's  the  word  !  (Seeing  the  King,  who  is 
in  the  act  of  taking  snuff.}  Ah,  use  snuff,  my  old  boy?  — 
Odd !  — Thank  you  for  a  pinch.  (Takes  a  pinch  sans  cere- 
monie,  and  without  the  King's  consent.  FREDERICK  shuts 
the  box  angrily.  WEDGEWOOD  starts  ~back  in  astonishment. 
— Aside}  Wonder  who  the  old-fashioned  brown  jug  can 
be !  I'll  take  him  by  the  handle  and  pour  him  out,  and 
see  what's  in  him. 


302  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [ ACT  II. 

KING. 

Like  the  snuff? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Yes  (snuffs] — it's  decent  blackguard  (snuffs} — quite 

decent. 

KING. 
Taste  it  again. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Don't  care  if  I  do.    (Helps  himself] 

KING. 
Perhaps  you  will  also  do  me  the  favour  to  accept  the 

box? 

WEDGEWOOD  (taking  the  lox] 

If  it  is  convenient.    What  am  I  to  infer  from  this  ? 

KING. 

That  you  and  I  cannot  take  snuff  out  of  the  same  box. 
My  box  is  not  large  enough  for  two. 

WEDGEWOOD  (astonished] 

You  don't  say  so!  "Not  large  enough  for  two"?  — 
(Looks  at  the  lox]  Damn  me  if  I  don't  think  it  large 
enough  for  a  dozen,  unless  they  took  snuff  with  a  shovel ! 
(Aside]  "Who  in  the  name  of  all  that's  magnanimous  can 
this  old  three-cornered  cocked-hatted  cockolorum  be  ? 

KING. 

You  were  overheard  to  say  but  now  that  you  would 
like  to  see  the  king? 


SCENE  II.  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR? 


WEDGEWOOD. 

Overheard  ?  (Aside.)  Ah,  that 's  the  way  they  do  every- 
thing here.  A  man  can't  sneeze  without  some  one  of 
the  four  winds  of  heaven  reporting  it  to  His  Majesty! 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  secret  in  the  whole  kingdom ! 
How  do  the  women  get  along,  I  wonder  ?  (To  FREDER- 
ICK.) "  Like  to  see  the  king  ?"  Certainly  I  should. 

KING. 

That  box  will  procure  you  an  audience.  Present  it  at 
the  palace. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Look  you  here,  my  jolly  old  cock,  none  of  your  jokes 
— none  of  your  tricks  upon  travellers,  if  you  please. 

What  do  you  mean? 

KING. 

That  I  am  appreciated  at  court. 

WEDGEWOOD  (aside.) 

Oh,  there 's  no  standing  this !  (To  FREDERICK.)  Do  you 
intend  to  say  that  you  are  personally  acquainted  with 

Frederick  the  Great  ? 

KING. 

I  know  him,  I  believe,  better  than  any  subject  in  his 
realm.  He  is  my  most  intimate  friend. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Well,  then,  if  that  be  the  case,  all  that  I  have  to  say 
is,  that  he  is  not  over  and  above  nice  in  the  choice  of  his 
companions. — What  an  odd  old  file ! 


304  THE    MAID    OF    S  A  X  0  X  Y :  [Acr  IL 

KING  (angrily?) 
Look  you  here,  Mr.  Wedgewood — 

WEDGEWOOD  (stammering.') 
"We-d-g-e-w-o-o-d !  — 

KING. 

Yes — I  know  you  well  enough.  You  are  an  English- 
man by  birth- — -a  crockery-merchant  by  trade — a  gentle- 
man from  inclination  —  and  an  odd  sort  of  character  from 
habit.  Without  knowing  anything  more  about  it  than 
the  man  in  the  moon,  you  have  condemned  the  policy 
of  the  king,  who  is  aware  of  all  you  have  said  and  done 
since  your  arrival  in  Prussia. 

WEDGEWOOD  (alarmed?) 

Oh,  I'll  get  out  of  this  infernal  country  as  fast  as  my 
legs  can  carry  me !  The  king  is  all  ears,  like  a  field  of 
corn ;  and  all  eyes,  like  a  potato-patch ! 

KING. 
What  alarms  you  ? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Everything.  It's  all  over  with  me!  I'm  an  earthen 
teapot  with  the  spout  knocked  off! — Suspiciously  odd! 

KING. 

You,  sir,  like  too  many  others,  are  entirely  mistaken 
in  the  character  of  Frederick.  You  will  understand  him 
better  when  we  meet  again  (going.*) 


SCENE  IL]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    T  R  A  I  T  0  R  ?  305 

WEDGEWOOD. 

But,  before  you  go,  pray  receive  your  box  again !  —  (the 
King  looks  at  him  sternly — WEDGEWOOD  greatly  alarmed} 
—  If — it — is  —  convenient ! 

KING. 

Not  now.  "When  next  we  confer,  remember  me. — 
Farewell !  [Exit. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

.Remember  you  ?  I  think  I  shall.  Once  seen,  never 
forgotten.  What  a  deep  old  screw ! 

(Enter  HAROLD.) 

IIAEOLD. 

The  king  commands  your  presence  at  the  chateau  of 
the  countess. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

The  devil  he  does!  (Looks  at  the  box.)  What's  here? 
As  I  live,  the  royal  arms !  (Conceals  the  box  from  HAR- 
OLD.) Oh,  the  thing's  plain  enough.  That  fellow  has 
stolen  this  box ;  and,  for  fear  of  being  found  out,  he  has 
put  it  off  on  me!  It's  all  up! — I've  been  bamboozled 
by  that  nefarious  old  monster  of  iniquity !  But  I  '11  after 
him  straight,  and  have  him  jugged.  If  I  don't,  they'll 
make  no  bones  si.  jugging  me! — If  it  is  convenient. 

[Exit  in  a  flurry. 

HAEOLD. 

How  he  trembles  !     He 's  frightened  out  of  his  senses ! 


306  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  IL 

— Fear?    What  is  it?    A  word  not  to  be  found  in  the 
articles  of  war  —  a  soldier's  only  vocabulary. 

SONG HAROLD. 

Fiery  Mars,  thy  votary  hear ! 

"Weave  for  me  a  wreath  of  glory ! 
When  I  rest  upon  my  bier, 

Let  my  memory  live  in  story ! 
Aid  my  sword  in  time  of  war !  — 

In  iny  country's  cause  I  wield  it  — 
Only  with  the  breath  I  draw, 

Will  I  to  the  foeman  yield  it! 

[Exit. 


SCENE    III. 

SOPHIA  MANSFIELD'S  apartments  in  the  Porcelain-Factory. 
Enter  SOPHIA. 

SOPHIA. 

'Tis  done.  My  vase  is  finished,  and  in  the  possession 
of  the  overseer.  How  is  it  with  me  ?  Although  my  for- 
tunes are  suspended  by  a  single  thread,  an  unaccustomed 
buoyancy  pervades  my  bosom.  Are  these  emotions  pre- 
cursors of  victory,  or  has  the  love  of  Laniska  given  me 
a  new  existence,  and  tinged  the  world  once  more  with 
hues  of  paradise  ?  How  new  and  fresh  and  strange  are 


SCENE  III.]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  307 

all  things  here  about  my  heart!  This  is  his  gift  —  a 
simple  flower !  He  said  it  is  an  emblem  of  love.  It  is 
not  so.  Love  does  not  perish  thus! — Love  cannot  be  a 
flower. 

SONG  —  SOPHIA. 

Ah !  Love  is  not  a  garden-flower, 

That  shoots  from  out  the  cultured  earth  ; 
That  needs  the  sunbeam  and  the  shower, 

Before  it  wakens  into  birth : 
It  owns  a  richer  soil  and  seed, 

And  woman's  heart  supplies  them  both, 
Where  it  will  spring,  without  a  weed. 

Consummate  in  its  growth. 

These  leaves  will  perish  when  away 

From  either  genial  sun  or  shower ; 
Not  so  will  wither  and  decay 

Celestial  Love's  perennial  flower. 
Tis  our  companion  countless  miles, 

Through  weal  or  wo  in  after-years ; 
And  though  it  flourishes  in  smiles, 

It  blooms  as  fresh  in  tears ! 

(Enter  FBEDEKICA.) 

FKEDEKICA. 

My  dear  Sophia,  I  am  overjoyed  to  learn  that  you 
have  completed  your  vase. 


308  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  II. 

SOPHIA. 

Thanks,  dear  madam.  Is  it  true  that  the  works  of  the 
different  competitors  are  to  be  exhibited  at  the  fete  of 
the  countess,  and  that  the  decision  is  to  be  there  made? 

FKEDERICA. 

It  is — and  the  countess  insists  upon  your  being  pres- 
ent. 

SOPHIA. 

I  am  an  unknown  girl,  madam ;  and  if  I  decline  the 
invitation,  I  beseech  you  take  it  not  amiss. 

FREDERICA. 

But  I  will  take  it  amiss,  and  so  will  the  count  and 
countess,  whose  messenger  I  am,  and  who  insisted  upon 
my  bringing  you  to  the  chateau  at  once. 

SOPHIA. 

"Well,  madam,  since  you  will  have  it  so  — 

FREDERICA. 

Oh,  you  '11  be  delighted.  Only  think  of  the  concentra- 
ted attractions  of  "  the  court,  the  camp,  the  grove  /"  Oh, 
they're  too  much  for  any  mortal  woman  to  withstand! 

DUET SOPHIA   AND   FREDERICA. 

The  king,  the  princes  of  the  court, 

With  lords  and  ladies  bright, 
Will  in  their  dazzling  state  resort 

To  this  grand  fete  to-night: 
\ 


SCENE  IV.]         OR,    W  II  0  'S    THE    TRAITOR?  309 

The  merry-hearted  and  the  proud 
"Will  mingle  in  the  glittering  crowd, 
"Who  glide  with  Fashion's  sparkling  stream 
Where  one  I  love  will  shine  supreme !  — 
La  ra  la,  la  ra  la,  la  la  la,  &e. 

The  cavaliers  of  Italy, 

The  gay  gallants  of  France, 
With  Spain  and  England's  chivalry, 

Will  join  the  merry  dance. 
The  court  of  Love — the  camp  of  Mars, 
Fair  Prussian  dames,  "  earth-treading  stars," 
To  music's  strain  will  float  in  light, 
Where  one  I  love  will  beam  to-night !  — 
La  ra  la,  la  ra  la,  la  la  la,  &c. 

[Exit  cheerfully. 


SCENE   IV. 

Discovered.  Grand  Saloon  in  the  Chateau  of  the  Count- 
ess LANISKA,  arranged  for  a  Fete.  —  The  scene  opens 
with  dancing  and  waltzing  ~by  the  Characters,  and  dis- 
covers the  King  and  retinue,  Lords  and  Ladies  of  the 
Court,  foreign  Ambassadors  and  Attaches,  the  Count- 
ess LANISKA,  ALBERT,  WEDGEWOOD,  KAKL,  Girls  of  the 


310  THE    MAID    OF    SAXOSTY:  [Acr  II. 

Factory,  &c.,  dec.,  &c.  The  Characters  are  variously 
grouped  during  the  dance  ;  and  while  all  are  observ- 
ing the  King,  who,  with  KARL  at  his  side,  is  attentively 
examining  the  Vases,  which  are  placed  on  stands  on 
one  side  of  the  stage,  the  Count  LANISKA  enters,  con- 
ducting in  SOPHIA  and  FKEDEEICA.  After  the  dance, 
the  King  speaks. 

KING. 

The  hour  has  arrived  which  is  to  decide  the  fate  of  the 
competitors.  (All  the  Characters  express  ly  their  looks 
and  actions  the  utmost  anxiety  as  to  the  result,  and  draw 
near  to  the  King.) 

KARL  (to  KING.) 

The  inscription  upon  this  vase  is  in  the  handwriting 
of  the  Count  Laniska. 

KING. 
'Tis  well. 

KAEL  (aside.} 
And  it  is  his  death-warrant ! 

KING. 

Subjects  and  children :  we  have  reason  to  be  proud  of 
an  art  that  redounds  to  the  honour  and  glory  of  Prussia. 
"Where  all  have  deserved  well,  all  shall  be  well  remem- 
bered. (The  Girls  of  the  factory  manifest  great  joy  at 
these  words,  and  turn  to  congratulate  each  other.  SOPHIA 
and  LANISKA  stand  apart,  and  watch  every  action  of  the 


SCENE  IV.]          OR,    TV  II 0  '  5    THE    TRAITOR?  311 

King,  while  the  other  Characters  appear  greatly  inter- 
ested for  SOPHIA.)  This  vase,  however,  I  select  from  the 
rest,  as  the  most  beautiful  of  them  all.  (SOPHIA  clasps 
her  hands  in  great  agitation.}  Let  this  be  known  to 
after-ages  as  "THE  PRUSSIAN  VASE;"  and  let  the  name 
here  inscribed  (looks  at  and  points  to  the  name  on  the 
vase}  be  chronicled  throughout  these  realms.  (Takes  SO- 
PHIA by  the  hand}  Sophia  Mansfield  is  the  artist,  and 
she  is  free  !  (SOPHIA,  overcome  by  her  feelings,  falls  on 
the  bosom  of  FREDERICA.) 

CHORUS. 

Victoria !  victoria ! 

The  Saxon  maid  is  free  ! — • 
Victoria!  victoria!  &c. 

SOPHIA. 
My  heart  will  break  with  gratitude ! 

COUNT. 
And  mine  with  joy  ! 

KARL  (aside.} 

It  will  be  of  brief  duration. 

KING  (who  has  regarded  SOPHIA  with  great  interest} 
Let  the  dance  proceed. 

(A  merry  dance  and  waltz  by  the  Characters,  at  the  ter- 
mination of  which  a  tableau  is  formed.  The  utmost 
merriment  and  hilarity  mark  the  action  of  the  scene. 


THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  IL 


At  the  conclusion  of  the  dance,  the  King,  who  has  been 
occupied  in  carefully  examining  the  Vase,  wipes  it 
with  his  handkerchief,  which  becomes  stained  with 
the  paint.  KAKL  draws  his  attention  to  the  inscrip- 
tion^ 

KARL. 

Behold,  my  liege  !  — 

KING. 

Ha!  What  words  are  these?  (Reads.}  "To  Frederick 
the  Great  Tyrant"  —  Treachery  ! — (KAKL  immediately 
seizes  the  Vase,  and  carries  it  off,  without  the  inscrip- 
tion being  seen  by  any  but  the  King.)  Break  off  the 
sports ! 

COUNTESS  (greatly  astonished.} 
"What  means  Your  Gracious  Majesty? 

KING. 

(  Who  has  taken  out  his  tablets,  and  written  on  them  in 
great  haste — does  not  regard  her,  and  speaks  furiously. 
— Let  all  the  doors  be  closed!  Such  base  ingratitude 
shall  not  go  unpunished !  —  Give  over  your  mirth  I  Ho ! 
My  guards !  (Drums  immediately  sound}  My  guards ! 

(Presto  !  Enter  HAKOLD,  Corporal  and  Grenadiers  in  great 
haste.  The  King  hands  HAROLD  his  orders,  and  rushes 
out  in  a  towering  passion.  Enter  "WEDGEWOOD.  All 
the  Guests  are  thrown  into  great  confusion.  He-enter 
KAKL.) 


SCENE  IV.]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  313 

HAEOLD  (pr 
Count  Laniska,  stand  forth  ! 

COUNT. 
What  is  your  business  with  me,  Harold  ? 

HAEOLD. 

You  are  our  prisoner. 

03IXES. 

Prisoner  ? 

KAEL  (aside.) 
Now  I  triumph ! 

COTJXT. 
Under  whose  orders  do  you  act  ? 

HAEOLD. 

Those  of  the  king. 

OMXES. 
The  king! 

HAEOLD. 

Sophia  Mansfield ! 

ALBERT. 

What  of  her? 

HAEOLD. 

She  must  away  with  us  to  the  castle  of  Spandau. 

SOPHIA. 
O  Heaven,  support  me ! 

COTJOT  (drawing  his  sword.) 
Touch  her  at  your  peril,  Harold ! 


814  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  IL 

ALBERT. 

This  is  madness!  Give  me  your  sword!  (Wrests  it 
from  him  and  gives  it  to  HAROLD.)  Of  what  are  they 
accused  ? 

HAKOLD. 

Of  ingratitude  and  treason ! 

OMNES. 
Treason ! 

Finale. 

COUNT. 

Treason ! 

OMNES. 

Treason ! 

COUNT. 

It  cannot  be ! 
Of  treason  who  accuses  me  ? 

HAROLD. 

The  king  himself! — These  orders  read! 

(Hands  paper  to  Count.) 

OMNES. 

The  king  himself ! 

COUNT  (looking  at  the  papers.) 

'Tis  true  indeed! 
SOPHIA. 
Oh,  what  a  fearful  change  is  here ! 

KARL  (aside.) 
I  triumph  now! — my  vengeance  fear! 


SCENE  IV.]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  315 

HAKOLD. 

Your  prisoners,  guards  ! — No  more  delay ! 

(SOPHIA  and  LANISKA  are  made  prisoners?) 

OMNES. 
The  king's  commands  let  all  obey ! 

COUNT   AND   SOPHIA. 

"We  must  obey  I 
SOPHIA. 
Oil,  how  my  trusting  heart  is  grieved!  — 

COUNT. 

Our  royal  master  is  deceived ! 
No  traitor  I !  —  My  loyal  heart 
Spurns  with  disdain  so  base  a  part. 

SOPHIA. 
How  vainly  Fortune  smiled  on  me ! 

SOPHIA   AND   COUNT. 

Oh,  give  me  death  or  liberty ! 

KAEL. 
Tear  them  apart ! 

HAROLD   AND   GEENADIEES. 

No  more  delay ! 

KARL. 

To  prison,  hence  !  — 

OMNES. 

To  prison  ? 


316  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  II. 

HAROLD   AND   GRENADIERS. 

Hence ! 

OMNES. 

Away !  away ! 

(  As  the  Guards  attempt  to  separate  Count  LANISKA  and 
SOPHIA,  great  confusion  ensues,  and  the  act-drop  de- 
scends.} 


END    OF    THE    SECOND    ACT. 


SCENE  I.]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  317 


ACT   III. 

SCENE   I. 

The  stage  represents  part  of  the  Castle  of  Spandau,  and 
is  arranged  as  follows :  On  the  left,  is  a  large  rock  • 
above  which,  in  the  distance,  is  the  Tower.  A  large 
grated  door  opens  upon  a  platform,  surrounded  by 
iron  railings.  —  Count  LANISKA  is  discovered  leaning 
upon  them.  On  the  right,  is  an  arched  cell,  with  part 
of  the  wall  jutting  from  the  side,  behind  which  is  a 
secret  door.  Above  this  is  a  fine  mew  of  an  open 
country,  and  a  clear,  blue,  starlight  sky.  SOPHIA  is 
seated  in  the  cell,  at  a  table.  —  The  whole  scene  is  so 
managed  that,  while  the  Audience  have  a  full  view 
of  everything,  the  Prisoners,  although  they  hear,  can- 
not see  each  other.  —  Time,  near  midnight. —  The  cur- 
tain rises  slowly  to  music. 

DUET —  SOPHIA   AXD   COUNT. 
SOPHIA. 

This  gloomy  cell  is  rny  abode  at  last ; 
The  sole  reward  for  all  my  perils  past. 


318  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Aer  IIL 

'Tis  strange  that  love  within  the  breast  should  dwell, 
"When  hope,  dejected,  bids  the  heart  farewell! 

COUNT. 

"What  sounds  are  these  ?     'No  human  form  is  near, 
And  yet  that  well-known  voice  I  faintly  hear ! 
Twas  sure  the  fancied  music  of  the  mind, 
Whose  breathings  mingled  with  the  midnight  wind. 

BOTH. 

Yes! — T  is  lost! — • 'Tis  gone! — Hark!  it  comes  again, 
Like  distant  echoes  of  a  melting  strain : 
In  melody  {  %g  ]  spirit  floats  around !  — 
That  voice! — These  walls  are  vocal  with  the  sound. 
I  hear  its  music  near  me  still !  —  'Tis  there  ! 
Sure  'tis  some  gentle  spirit  of  the  air! 

(During  the  duet,  the  moon  has  ~been  gradually  rising, 
and  the  light,  falls  through  the  grated  windows  of  the 
Prison?) 

(Enter  Jailor,  from  the  Tower,  to  Count  LANISKA.) 

JAILOR. 
..  Count  Laniska — a  friend,  with  an  order  from  the  king. 

COUNT. 
I  attend  him.  [Exit  Count  LANISKA. 

(Jailor  closes  the  iron  door  over  the  grated  window,  locks 
it,  and  retires) 


SCENE  I]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    T  R  A  I  T  0  R  ?  319 

somiA. 

'Twas  but  a  dream  !  —  'Tis  past,  and  all  is  still  again ! 
[The  bell  in  the  Tower  strikes  twelve. 

BRAVURA SOPHIA. 

Hark!  'tis  the  deep-toned  midnight  bell, 
That  bids  a  sad  and  long  farewell 

To  the  departed  hour ; 
How  like  a  dirge  its  music  falls 
Within  these  cold  and  dreary  walls, 

Where  stern  misfortunes  lower ! 

Ah  !  vainly  through  these  prison-bars 
Glide  the  pale  beams  of  moon  and  stars, 

To  cheer  this  lonely  tower ; 
From  evening's  close  to  dawn  of  day, 
Hope's  star  sheds  not  a  single  ray 

To  light  the  solemn  hour ! 

Alas !  what  pangs  must  guilt  conceal, 
Wlien  innocence  like  mine  can  feel 

So  crushed  in  such  an  hour ! 
I  know  not  whether  love  be  crime  — 
But  if  it  is,  in  every  clime 

'T  is  woman's  fatal  dower ! 

I  can  find  no  clew  to  this  most  cruel  treachery.  "Wltat 
fiend  in  human  shape  has  plotted  my  destruction  ?  (Sound 
of  chains — prison-door  is  unlocked?)  Ah !  Karl  here  I 


320  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [ACT  IIL 

(Enter  KARL,  who  secures  the  door  through  which  he 
came  in.  He  takes  a  position  on  the  'opposite  side  of 
the  stage,  and  regards  SOPHIA  attentively.) 

KARL. 

Well,  Sophia,  we  meet  at  last  where  we  can  confer 
without  the  possibility  of  interruption.  I  came  to  save 
you. 

SOPHIA. 

My  life  would  not  be  worth  preserving,  owing  any- 
thing to  you. 

KARL. 

Subdue  this  unavailing  anger,  and  listen  to  your  friend. 

SOPHIA. 

Not  to  you.  The  enmity  of  such  a  man  is  a  tribute 
paid  to  honesty.  Friend !  (scornfully.} 

KARL. 
I  came  to  give  you  liberty. 

SOPHIA. 
How? 

KARL. 

By  flight. 

SOPHIA. 

Where  ? 

KARL. 

To  Saxony. 

SOPHIA. 
With  whom  ? 


SCENE  I.]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  321 

KARL. 

The  only  one  who  loves  you. 

SOPHIA. 
Name  him. 

KAHL. 
Behold  him  at  your  feet ! 

SOPHIA. 

What  mockery  is  this  ?  Mark  me,  Karl :  I  am  a  weak, 
friendless,  unprotected  girl.  If  your  sex  is  strong,  mine 
is  resolute.  Abandon  your  present  designs — give  up 
this  useless  suit,  and  cease  to  persecute  the  innocent. 

KAEL. 
I  have  heard  you !    Now  listen  to  me.     You  are  my 

destiny. 

SOPHIA. 
Wretch ! 

KAKL. 

I  cannot  and  I  will  not  live  without  you.  To  secure, 
if  not  your  love,  at  least  the  possession  of  your  person,  I 
have  perilled  everything.  You  are  mine  by  right,  and  I 
will  have  my  own ! 

SOPHIA. 

Yours  by  right!  — 

KAEL. 

Yes! 

SOPHIA. 

What  right? 


322  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  IIL 

KAEL. 

I 

The  king  gave  you  to  me. 

SOPHIA. 
I  was  not  his  to  give. 

KAEL. 
Ton  were  his  bondwoman. 

SOPHIA. 
And  liis  bondwoman  spurned  you,  as  she  ought ! 

KAEL. 
With  scorn  you  did! — I  have  not  forgotten  it! 

SOPHIA. 
And  does  so  now  again. 

KAEL. 
You  love  another ! 

SOPHIA. 
I'll  not  deny  it. 

KAEL. 

Torture !     (Draws  his  dagger?) 

SOPHIA  (greatly  terrified.) 
Karl,  you  would  not  stain  this  prison-floor  with  blood ! 

KAEL. 

I  would,  to  strike  my  rival's  heart  through  yours!— 
But  words  may  make  the  blow  unnecessary.  (Puts  up 
his  dagger.)  Hear  me,  Sophia.  Till  I  saw  you,  I  never 
felt  the  pangs  of  love ! — I  never  shed  a  tear !  From  man- 
hood's early  dawn,  my  savage  nature  could  not  brook 


SCENE  I]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  323 

reproof ;  nor  friend  nor  foe  had  power  over  me.  Your 
smile  alone  subdued  this  callous  heart.  Sophia,  save 
me! — Save  a  repentant,  wretched  man! 

SONG KARL. 

(German  air.) 

Once,  mild  and  gentle  was  my  heart ! 

My  youth  from  guile  was  free ! 
But  when  love's  bonds  were  torn  apart, 

What  joy  had  life  for  me? 
No  words,  no  threats  could  daunt  my  soul, 
My  reckless  spirit  spurned  control 

Till  swayed  by  smiles  from  thee ! 

A  wanderer  o'er  the  desert  sand, 

An  outcast  on  the  sea, 
An  exile  from  my  native  land  — 

"What's  all  the  world  to  me? 
Each  friend  misfortune  proved  a  foe : 
I  scorned  the  high — despised  the  low — 

Till  swayed  by  smiles  from  thee ! 

(At  the  conclusion  of  the  song,  enter,  by  the  secret  door, 
HAROLD  with  a  carbine,  conducting  in  ALBEET  and 
WEDGEWOOD  stealthily) 

HAROLD  (aside) 
1  knew  that  I  was  right. 


32-1  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  IIL 

ALBERT  (aside.} 
Silence  —  on  your  lives ! 

WEDGEWOOD  (aside.) 
If  it  is  convenient !  [They  conceal  themselves. 

SOPHIA. 
It  is  in  vain ! 

KAKL. 

Then  you  must  away  with  me  this  very  night,  this 
very  hour,  or  perish  here !  (KAKL  advances  and  takes 
her  ly  the  wrist.  ALBERT  keeps  WEDGEWOOD  and  HAKOLD 

'/•) 

SOPHIA. 

Villain,  forbear !     Oh,  help  me,  Heaven ! 

KAKL  (drawing  his  dagger) 

You  call  in  vain !  Your  doom  is  sealed ! — Die !  (As 
he  is  about  to  stab  SOPHIA,  WEDGEWOOD  seizes  his  arm.) 

WEDGEWOOD. 

You  lie,  you  infernal  scoundrel ! 

KARL. 

Ha!  betrayed! — Have  at  you,  then!  (A  struggle  en- 
sues between  KAKL  and  WEDGEWOOD,  in  which  the  former 
is  overcome  and  thrown  upon  the  ground.  SOPHIA  rushes 
into  ALBERT'S  arms  in  great  agitation.  HAROLD  advances 
to  the  centre  of  the  stage,  and  aims  his  carbine  at  KARL. 
At  the  same  moment,  WEDGEWOOD,  who  has  had  a  desper- 
ate struggle  with  KARL,  exclaims — ) 


SCENE  II.]  OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  325 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Your  dagger!  your  dagger!  (Wrests  it  from  Mm.) 
Now  yield,  or  die  !  —  (Rises,  places  his  foot  upon  KAKL, 
and  holds  the  dagger  up]  —  If  it  is  convenient! 

(Tableau. — Scene  closes.} 

{Exit. 


SCENE    II. 

Another  cell  in  the  Castle  of  Spandau. — Enter  Count 
LANISKA  and  Jailor. 

JAILOK. 

Count  Laniska,  you  bear  the  king's  commission,  al- 
though a  prisoner ;  therefore,  while  I  leave  you  to  exam- 
ine these  papers  (hands  papers,)  received  from  Mr.  Wor- 
rendorf,  I  rely  upon  your  honour  not  to  attempt  to  escape. 

COUNT. 

Your  confidence  is  not  misplaced,  believe  me.  [Exit 
Jailor.] — (Looks  at  papers.}  My  friend  is  unwearied  in 
my  cause.  But  I  am  a  soldier,  and  have  ever  held  my 
life  at  the  disposal  of  the  king.  If  Sophia  were  free  and 
happy,  I  could  look  upon  death  with  an  undaunted  spirit. 
(Puts  up  papers)  How  like  an  angel  she  appeared  when 
last  I  gazed  upon  her  heavenly  face — now  glistening 
with  the  tear,  now  radiant  with  the  smile  of  beauty  1 


326                      THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  IIL 

SONG LANISKA. 

The  gentle  bird  on  yonder  spray, 
That  sings  its  little  life  away ; 
The  rose-bud  bursting  into  flower, 
And  glittering  in  the  sun  and  shower ; 
The  cherry-blossom  on  the  tree  — 
Are  emblematic  all  of  thee. 

Yon  moon  that  sways  the  vassal  streams, 
Like  thee  in  modest  beauty  beams ; 
So  shines  the  diamond  of  the  mine, 
And  the  rock-crystal  of  the  brine : 
The  gems  of  heaven,  the  earth  and  sea, 

Are  blended,  all,  dear  maid,  in  thee ! 

[Exit. 


SCENE   III. 

An  Apartment  in  the  Gallery  of  Paintings  at  Sans  Souci. 
Enter  ALBERT  and  WEDGEWOOD  in  haste,  meeting  the 
Countess  LANISKA. 

ALBERT. 

Have  you  seen  the  king  ? 

COUNTESS. 

His  Majesty  has  not  yet  appeared. 


SCKNE  III.]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  327 

WEDGEWOOD. 

A  crate  of  mouldy  straw  for  your  warlike  government ! 
(Snaps  his  fingers?)  That  for  your  soldierlike  system  of 
doing  business!  I  wouldn't  give  a  broken  basin  for  it! 
"Why,  the  commanding  officer  has  only  to  say,  "  Hang 
me  up  that  tall  fellow,  like  a  scarecrow,"  and  up  he  goes 
—  tzck  !  —  or,  "Give  me  that  short  chap  the  cat-o'-nine- 
tails," and,  whack,  he  has  it  —  or,  "Shoot  me  yonder 
half-dozen  specimens  of  humanity,"  and,  bang,  'tis  done! 
(Enter  FREDERICK,  followed  by  HAROLD,  unperceived,  at 
the  back  of  the  stage.} 

ALBERT. 

If  the  king  would  but  listen  to  reason  — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Ay,  but  he  won't!  I  never  saw  such  a  resolute  old 
curmudgeon;  and  then  he's  so  proud,  too!  He's  like  a 
hard-baked  stone  jar — he  won't  bend  anyhow.  I  know 
why  he  gave  me  his  snuff-box:  it  was  because  I  hap- 
pened to  help  myself  to  a  pinch  out  of  the  dirty  old 
trumpery !  If  he,  or  you,  or  all  of  you,  by  any  chance 
happened  to  live  in  England,  or  any  other  civilized  coun- 
try, this  poor  count  and  the  girl  too  would  have  an  im- 
partial hearing  before  they  were  condemned. 
COUNTESS. 

But  under  this  government  we  have  blessings  unknown 
to  yours — 


328  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  III. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

But  me  no  buts,  madam !  Give  me  the  blessings  of 
living  under  a  government  where  no  man  can  be  con- 
demned without  a  fair  trial  by  jury,  madam.  To  you 
Prussians,  this  is  a  matter  of  favour ;  but  to  us  English- 
men, it  is  a  matter  of  right ! 

COUNTESS. 

Would  to  Heaven  that  my  son  and  this  poor  girl  could 
have  such  a  trial !  — 

ALBERT. 

And  would  to  Heaven  I  might  plead  their  cause!  — 
(The  King,  who  has  paid  great  attention  to  their  conver- 
sation, walks  down  the  stage,  and  suddenly  stands  in 
the  midst  of  them.     They  all  start,  and  fall  back.) 

KING. 
On  one  condition  you  shall — 

OMNES. 
The  king ! 

KING. 

On  one  condition,  young  man,  your  prayer  shall  be 
granted. 

ALBERT. 

Name  it,  sire  — 

KING. 

If  you  fail  to  convince  the  judges  of  their  innocence, 
that  you  shall  share  their  punishment.  Do  you  agree  ? 

ALBERT. 

I  do,  and  set  my  life  upon  the  issue. 


SCENE  III.]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  329 

KING. 

Your  life  shall  answer  for  it  if  yon  fail.  (To  HAPWOLD.) 
Give  orders  that  the  hall  of  the  castle  be  immediately 
prepared  for  the  trial.  Use  despatch,  Harold !  [Exit 
HAROLD.]  —  (To  the  Countess.)  You,  madam,  I  believe  to 
be  wholly  ignorant  of  your  son's  treachery. 

COUNTESS. 

If  he  be  guilty  — 

KING  (sarcastically.) 
If  he  be  guilty,  madam  ? 

COUNTESS. 

Yes,  sire;  if  he  has  forgotten  what  Your  Majesty  has 
done  for  Poland,  he  is  no  son  of  mine ! 

KING. 

I  shall  spare  you  all  the  reflections  I  have  made  on  the 
subject,  madam.  Tyrant  as  I  am,  I  shall  not  punish  the 
innocent  mother  for  the  guilty  son.  But  perhaps  this 
gentleman  [ALBERT,]  and  your  [WEDGEWOOD]  recommend- 
ed trial — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Trial  by  jury!  Your  Majesty  has  said  it!  There's 
freedom  in  the  very  words ! 

KING. 
How  is  it  to  be  managed  ? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Managed,  Your  Majesty?  Why,  according  to  law  and 
justice. 


330  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  III 

KING. 

Good! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Twelve  honest,  upright,  free  and  independent  men  are 
empanelled  to  hear  the  case — 

KING. 
Good  again ! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

All  the  witnesses  are  examined,  and  all  the  testimony 
fairly  summed  up  by  learned  counsel — 

KING. 
Excellent ! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Then  the  grave  expounders  of  the  law — the  judges — - 
charge  the  jury,  who,  upon  their  oaths,  return  a  ver- 
dict— 

KING. 

A  glorious  institution ! 

WEDGEWOOD. 

The  shield  and  protection  of  the  rights  of  man — the 
bulwark  of  civil  and  religious  liberty — and  the  admira- 
tion of  the  whole  civilized  world !  Democratically  odd ! 

KING. 

Well — well — well — so  justice  be  done,  I  care  not  for 
the  means. 


SCEXE  III.]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  331 

WEDGEWOOD.    ' 

By  jingo,  he 's  genuine  porcelain !  It's  all  right  —  fair, 
square  and  above-board — a  clear  field  and  no  favour! 

(Enter  HAROLD.) 

HAROLD. 

Everything  is  in  preparation.  The  judges  are  pro- 
ceeding to  their  seats ;  the  jury  will  soon  be  sworn,  and 
the  prisoners  arraigned  at  the  bar  — 

WEDGEWOOD  (to  HAROLD.) 

Who 's  the  crier  of  the  court  ? 

HAROLD. 

That  office  is  not  yet  filled.  [Exit. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

That  won't  do !— Illegally  odd ! 

KING. 

Perhaps,  M" r.  TVedgewood,  you  would  like  the  appoint- 
ment yourself? 

WEDGEWOOD. 

If  it  is  convenient. 

KING. 

I  confer  it  upon  you. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Thank  Your  Majesty.  By  Jove,  we're  sailing  with 
wind  and  tide — a  smooth  sea  below  and  a  clear  sky 
above  us  1 


332  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  IIL 

KING. 

Well,  gentlemen,  I  wish  you  a  prosperous  voyage ;  but 
take  care  that  you  do  not  run  your  vessel  upon  the  rocks 
of  litigation,  and  founder  among  the  quicksands  of  the 
law. 

WEDGEWOOD. 

No  danger,  Your  Majesty,  with  such  a  pilot  [ALBERT.] 
—  (Sudden  and  loud  shouts  and  confused  noise  without. 
Drums  leat  to  arms)  "What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this 
commotion  ? 

(Enter  HAKOLD,  in  haste) 

KING. 
Out  with  it,  Harold ! 

HAROLD. 

The  rumour  of  the  treachery  and  ingratitude  of  the 
prisoners  has  spread  like  wildfire  throughout  the  city — 

KING. 
Well!  — 

HAROLD. 

The  populace  are  in  a  ferment  at  the  indignity  offered 
to  our  beloved  monarch,  and  demand  the  instant  execu- 
tion of  the  prisoners. 

KING. 

Well,  well ;  say  on. 

HAROLD. 

The  multitude  crowd  every  avenue  to  the  palace,  and 


SCENE  III.]          OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  333 

the  chateau  of  the  countess ;  and  the  royal  guards  are 
under  arms  to  preserve  the  public  peace. 

KING. 
So,  so,  so,  so  — 

COUNTESS. 

O  Heaven!  what  will  become  of  us? 

KING  (proudly.} 

Have  you  not  the  king's  protection?  I  will  appear 
among  my  children,  who  are  so  apprehensive  about  my 
safety,  that  they  sometimes  forget  themselves,  and  be- 
come a  little  unruly.  They  will  be  satisfied  when  they 
hear  and  see  their  father.  (Seeing  the  Countess  look  de- 
jected^) Do  not  droop,  madam;  your  guilty  son  shall 
have  a  fair  and  impartial  trial.  (Taking  her  hand.  —  To 
ALBERT  sternly.}  Look  to  it,  sir;  for  if  you  fail,  you 
know  what  follows!  (Exit  FREDERICK  and  Countess. — 
Immense  cheering  and  beating  of  drums  without} 

WEDGEWOOD. 

Bravo !  He's  a  trump. — Bless  me !  a  popular  commo- 
tion!— No  matter — I  am  crier  of  the  court!  Let  me 
catch  any  of  the  little  boys  making  a  noise  in  the  halls 
of  justice  —  that's  all !  I'll  make  the  king  himself  mind 
his  P's  and  Q's,  if  he  dare  to  interfere  with  our  grave 
deliberations!  I  will  act  as  becomes  my  station.  His 


334:  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [ACT  IIL 

Majesty  has  a  jewel  in  me,  and  I'll  convince  him  that 
authority  in  my  hands  is  a  knock-down  argument — so- 
fist-ically  odd ! 

SONG  —  WEDGEWOOD. 

That  law's  the  perfection  of  reason, 

No  one  in  his  senses  denies ; 
Yet  here  is  a  trial  for  treason 

Will  puzzle  the  wigs  of  the  wise. 
The  lawyers  who  bring  on  the  action 

On  no  single  point  will  agree, 
Though  proved  to  their  own  satisfaction 

That  tweedle-dum's  not  tweedle-dee ! 

To  settle  disputes,  in  a  fury 

The  sword  from  the  scabbard  we  draw ; 
But  reason  appeals  to  a  jury, 

And  settles — according  to  law. 
Then  hey  for  the  woolsack ! — for  never 

Without  it  can  nations  be  free ; 
But  trial  by  jury  for  ever! 

And  for  tyranny — fiddle-de-dee ! 

[Exit. 


SCENE  TV.]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  335 


SCENE    THE    LAST. 

Discovered.  The  whole  stage  is  thrown  open,  and  repre- 
sents the  Hall  of  the  Palace  at  Potsdam,  arranged  as  a 
court-room.  On  a  carpeted  platform  is  the  royal  seat 
of  state^  occupied  by  three  Judges.  On  the  right  and 
left  of  them  are  cushioned  seats  for  the  King  and  his 
retinue,  and  Officers  of  state.  In  front  of  the  judg- 
ment-seat is  a  large  centre-table,  on  which  are  various 
law-books  and  the  Prussian  Yase.  Around  the  table 
are  suitable  places  for  the  Advocates  in  the  cause.  On 
each  side  are  elevated  benches,  occupied  by  the  Girls 
of  the  Factory,  behind  whom  are  stationed  platoons 
of  the  Royal  Guards.  At  the  end  of  the  benches  on 
the  right  is  the  jury-box,  with  twelve  Jurors,  and  the 
desk  of  the  Crier,  on  which  is  a  small  mallet.  Around 
the  whole  stage  is  a  large  gallery,  crowded  with  the 
Citizens  of  Potsdam.  —  The  entire  scene  is  intended  to 
represent  an  English  Criminal  Court  of  Law  of  the 
olden  time,  in  full  costume,  with  scarlet  robes,  ermine 
gowns,  (&c.  —  The  following  Characters  are  discovered 
in  their  respective  places :  Baron  ALTENBERG,  the  At- 
torney-General and  Advocate  for  the  Crown;  the 
Workmen  of  the  Factory,  as  Witnesses;  the  Jailor, 
HANS,  GERTRUDE,  HAKOLD  and  Corporal ;  Count  LANIS- 


336  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  III. 

KA,  guarded,  attended  "by  the  Countess  and  FKEDEEICA  ; 
SOPHIA  MANSFIELD,  guarded,  and  attended  ly  Factory- 
Girls  ;  ALBERT,  as  Advocate  for  the  Prisoners,  and 
WEDGEWOOD,  as  Crier  of  the  Court ;  Officers  of  state, 
Ladies  of  the  Court,  Porters  of  the  Hall,  and  the  King. 
—  This  scene  is  accompanied  by  the  Orchestra. — Mu- 
sic as  the  scene  opens — 

CHORUS. 

"With  mercy  let  justice 

To  mortals  be  given, 
For  Justice  and  Mercy 

Are  twin-born  of  heaven ! 

(As  Baron  ALTENBERG  rises,  WEDGEWOOD  says,  in  a  sub- 
dued tone  of  voice,  and  very  respectfully] — 

"WEDGEWOOD. 

Silence  in  the  court ! 

ALTENBERG. 

May  it  please  your  lordships,  these  facts  are  not  de- 
nied: the  inscription  in  the  handwriting  of  the  count; 
his  free  access  to  the  factory;  his  frequent  use  of  the 
word  tyrant  when  speaking  of  the  king ;  his  earnest  in- 
terest in  the  Saxon  maid ;  her  love  for  the  count,  and 
her  opposition  to  the  will  of  our  most  gracious  sovereign 
for  allotting  her  to  the  overseer  as  his  bride :  and  they 
all  unite  in  establishing  their  crime,  the  punishment  of 


SCENE  IV.]          OK,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  337 

•which  is  death.  Had  not  His  Majesty  chanced  to  wipe 
off,  with  his  own  handkerchief,  the  blue  paint  which  con- 
cealed the  word  tyrant,  the  vase  would  have  been  sent 
to  Paris,  the  king  and  people  disgraced,  and  the  crimi- 
nals safe  in  Saxony.  Yes,  gentlemen  (to  the  Jury,)  this 
splendid  ornament,  which  is  to  be  known  to  all  future 
ages  as  "  The  Prussian  Vase,"  is  defaced  with  the  trea- 
sonable inscription  —  "To  Frederick  the  Great  Tyrant.-' 
KDTG  (rising  in  excitement,  and  forgetting  himself.) 
Yes,  soldiers  and  subjects,  friends  and  children,  this 
word  is  applied  to  me  —  to  your  father — by  these  base 

ingrates  here !  — 

CHORUS. 

Shame,  shame,  shame ! 
Long  live  the  king !  &c. 

WEDGEWOOD  (in  a  commanding  tone,  and  striking  the  desk 

with  his  mallet.) 

Silence  in  the  court,  or  I'll  put  you  in  the  stocks,  juve- 
nile delinquents  and  all !  "What  an  odd  people ! 

KING. 

I  beg  the  indulgence  of  your  lordships  for  my  infirmi- 
ties of  temper.  Let  the  cause  proceed.  (Takes  his  seat.) 

JUDGE. 

The  case  for  the  crown,  gentlemen,  is  fully  before  you, 
and  is  submitted  in  the  confidence  that  you  will  dis- 
charge your  duty  faithfully. 


338  THE    MAID    OF    S  A  X  0  X  Y :  [Acr  IIL 

KING  (again  forgetting  himself.} 
Ay,  discharge  your  duty  faithfully ! 
WEDGEWOOD  (witJi  great  authority  rapping  on  the  desk.) 
Silence  in  the  court,  Your  Majesty ! 

JUDGE. 
Let  the  counsel  for  the  prisoners  now  proceed. 

ALBERT. 

Place  Karl  in  the  witness-box. 

(Enter  KARL  and  HAROLD.) 

SOLO   AND   CHOKUS. 
KARL. 

What  outrage  more  ?    At  whose  command 

Am  I  thus  shackled  and  restrained? — 
"What  mockery 's  this  ?     In  this  free  land 
The  subject's  rights  should  be  maintained. 

CHOKUS. 
The  traitor  braves  the  king's  command ! 

KARL. 

Those  whom  the  lion  would  ensnare, 
Should  of  his  reckless  fangs  beware  I 
The  forest-monarch,  held  at  bay, 
"Will  turn  and  spring  upon  his  prey ! 

CHORUS. 

Thus  bold  will  guilt  full  oft  appear !  — 
The  sword  of  Justice  let  him  fear  I 


SCENE  IV.]         OR,    WHO'S    T  II  E    T  II  A  I  T  0  li  ?  339 

WEDGEWOOD  (as  KARL  i<s  placed  in  tJie  witness-fiox.} 
Silence  in  the  court! 

CHOKUS. 

"With  mercy  let  justice 

To  mortals  be  given ; 
For  Mercy  and  Justice 

Are  twin-born  of  heaven. 

KAKL. 

"Why  am  I  summoned  here  against  my  will  ? 

ALBERT. 

You  are  here  to  answer,  not  to  question,  sirrah ! 

KARL. 

By  what  authority  do  you  command  my  answers  ?    In 
these  realms  the  king  alone  commands. 

KING  (again  forgetting  himself!) 

That's  true — that's  very  true — the  king  alone  com- 
mands— 

WEDGEWOOD  (shaking  his  mallet  at  the  King.) 
"What,  Your  Majesty — you  will — will  you?  — 

KING. 

Oh,  I  have  forgotten  myself  again !     (Takes  his  seat?) 
Confound  the  fellow ! 

KARL  (aside.} 
The  king  here?    Then  I  have  one  friend  at  least  on 


34:0  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  III. 

whom  I  may  rely.     (To  King.)  Shall  I — may  I  speak 

freely  ? 

KING. 

The  king  has  no  authority  now.  (Pointing  to  the  jury- 
box.}  There  are  the  sovereigns  of  the  people,  and  to  them 
you  must  appeal.  (Aside}  "What  a  situation  for  a  mon- 
arch ! 

ALBERT  (to  KARL.) 

You  know  yon  Saxon  maid  and  the  Count  Laniska? 

KARL. 
I  do,  and  hate  the  count. 

ALBERT. 

Wherefore  ? 

KARL. 

He  has  thwarted  my  designs!  —  No,  no,  I  mean  not 
that !  I  mean  that  I  hate  him  because  he  plotted  treason 
against  the  king,  and  wrote  "  Tyrant"  upon  the  vase. 

ALBERT. 

Did  he  write  it  ? 

KARL. 

He  did — these  eyes  beheld  him. 
COUNT  (aside} 
The  perjured  caitiff! 

SOPHIA. 
O  Heaven,  have  mercy  upon  us ! 

COUNTESS. 

They  are  lost ! 


SCENE  IT.]          OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  34:1 

(Countess  leans  on  FREDERICA.  The  King  Reckons  to  HAR- 
OLD, who  goes  to  him.  They  engage  in  earnest  conver- 
sation, occasionally  pointing  to  KARL.  HAROLD  is  sup- 
posed to  be  informing  him  of  the  arrest  of  KARL  in 
SOPHIA'S  cell.  KARL  leaves  the  witness-box,  and  is  about 
to  retire  /  but  is  stopped  by  HAROLD.) 

ALBERT. 

Call  the  German  innkeeper  to  the  stand. 

[HANS  is  placed  in  the  box. 
KARL  (aside.) 
I  tremble  with  apprehension ! 

ALBERT    (tO  HANS.) 

You  deal  in  colours  —  do  you  not? 

HANS. 
Yaw,  Mynheer. 

ALBERT. 

Have  you  sold  any  in  Berlin  lately  ? 
HANS. 

Yaw,  Mynheer ;  I  sold  some  of  der  Prussian  blue  to 
der  Hungarian  overseer  of  der  factory,  who  gave  me 
monish  to  say  netting  about  it.  He  tried  der  quality 
upon  dis  little  scrap  of  baper,  vich  he  forgot,  and  vich  I 
kept,  mit  der  intention  of  giving  him  back  ven  I  saw  him 
again.  It  is  scrawled  all  over  mit  der  word  " Tyrant" 

KARL  (forgetting  himself.) 
That  paper's  mine — give  it  me ! 


34:2  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY:  [Acr  III. 

WEDGEWOOD  (instantly  snatching  the  paper  and  holding 

it  up,  exclaims  in  a  loud  tone)  — 
It 's  not  convenient !   (Hands  the  paper  to  ALBERT,  w ho 
reads  it  to  the  Judges.) 

ALBERT. 

An  attempt  to  imitate  the  handwriting  of  the  count. 
Compare  it  with  the  word  upon  the  vase. 

JUDGE. 
It  is  the  same ! 

CHORUS. 

Huzza !  huzza  !  &c. 

WEDGEWOOD  (forgetting  himself ',  after  the  chorus  has  fin- 
ished, shouts  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice,)  Huzza!  — 
(which  the  King  observing,  rises  to  call  him  to  order  ; 
when  WEDGEWOOD,  noticing  the  King,  places  his  hand 
upon  his  own  mouth  /  and  looking  round,  and  holding 
his  mallet  in  a  threatening  manner  over  KARL,  who  is 
silent,  ~by  way  of  excusing  his  mistake,  says) — But  si- 
lence in  the  court !  (The  King,  shaking  his  finger  at 
"WEDGEWOOD,  takes  his  seat ;  HANS  leaves  the  box.) 

ALBERT. 

Place  that  workman  on  the  stand.    (It  is  done.)    Did 
you  ever  see  this  vase  before  ? 

WORKMAN. 

Yes,  sir. 


BCEXE  IV.]         0  R ,    W  II  0  '  S    THE    T  II  A  I  T  0  R  ?  343 

ALBERT. 

Where  ? 

WORKMAN. 

I  saw  Karl  receive  it  for  the  furnace,  and  I  saw  him 
marking  upon  it  with  a  sharp  instrument,  which  he  sud- 
denly hid  in  his  bosom.  (KARL  feels  for  his  dagger,  and 
half  draws  it,  looking  at  SOPHIA  ferociously.  SOPHIA 
observes  him  narrowly,  and  with  great  apprehension^) 

ALBERT. 

Who  took  the  vase  from  the  furnace  ? 

WORKMAN". 

Karl. 

ALBERT. 

Who  had  possession  of  it  afterward  ? 

WORKMAN. 

Karl. 

ALBERT. 

Who  pointed  out  the  word  "Tyrant"  to  the  king  at 
the  fete  of  the  countess  ? 

KING  (rising  with  great  emotion^  and  entirely  forgetting 

himself.) 
Karl! 

ALBERT. 

Who  has  misled,  blinded  and  deceived  the  king? 

KING  (with  great  emotion) 
Traitorous,  fiendlike  Karl ! 


34A:  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  IIL 

KAKL  (aloud.} 
I  am  stunned  with  horror ! 

KING  (leaving  Ms  seat,  and  coming  down  in  great  haste — 

WEDGEWOOD  raises  his  hammer.} 
By  your  leave,  Mr.  "Wedgewood. 

CHOKUS  (as  the  KING  descends.} 
Long  live  the  king !  &c. 

(The  King  takes  his  station  in  the  centre  of  the  stage,  and 
lifts  his  hat.) 

KING. 
If  the  court  please  — 

WEDGEWOOD  (aside.) 

Bravo !  His  Majesty  is  becoming  a  principal  witness. 
(In  a  subdued  tone  of  voice.)  Silence  in  the  court! — The 

king  speaks ! 

KING  (rapidly.) 

I  see  it  all !  The  case  is  clear.  Karl  had  my  permis- 
sion to  espouse  Sophia.  She  refused  him.  Laniska  loved 
her.  Karl  hated  him,  and  planned  her  destruction  ;  vis- 
ited her  in  prison;  tried  to  force  her  to  fly  the  coun- 
try with  him;  she  refused,  and  he  would  have  slain 
her,  had  not  Mr.  Wedgewood,  the  Advocate  and  Harold 
— who  has  just  told  me  all — struck  him  to  the  ground. 
Karl  plotted  this  mischief — Karl  bought  the  paint — 
Karl  wrote  the  word — and  Karl  shall  DDS! 


SCENE  IV.  ]         OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  3-i5 

KARL  (draws  his  dagger.} 

But  not  unavenged !  (He  darts  toward  SOPHIA,  and 
makes  an  attempt  to  stab  her.  SOPHIA  shrieks  and  runs 
to  LAXISEA.  All  the  Characters  rise,  greatly  excited,  and 
watch  the  scene  with  deep  interest.  The  Guards  present 
their  pikes  to  the  breast  of  KARL,  who  is  seized  l>y  HAR- 
OLD and  Corporal  —  in  the  brief  struggle  with  whom, 
KARL'S  shirt-sleeve  is  torn  open,  and  the  felon's  brand 
is  discovered  on  his  arm.  To  this  ALBERT  points  in  tri- 
umph.—  Tableau.  —  The  whole  action  is  instantaneous. 

HAROLD  (with  great  eagerness) 

Behold,  my  liege,  the  felon's  brand !  (Presto — all  start 
with  astonishment.) 

CHORUS. 
Now,  who's  the  traitor? 

[The  Jurymen  rise. 

QUINTETTE   AXD   CHORUS. 
KARL. 

The  javelin  from  an  unseen  hand 
"Was  sent  that  laid  me  low !  — 

Behold  exposed  the  felon's  brand 
Unto  my  mortal  foe ! 

CHORUS. 
Who 's  now  the  traitor  ?  &c. 


346  THE    MAID    OF   SAXONY:  [Acr  IIL 

JUDGE  (promptly.} 
What  say  the  jury? 

FOREMAN  (promptly.} 

The  prisoners  are  innocent!     (Presto — all  start  with 
joy-} 

CHORUS. 

The  prisoners  are  innocent !  &c. 

(Some  of  the  Characters  clasp  their  hands — others  em- 
firace.  SOPHIA  and  LANISKA  turn  to  ALBERT,  and  the 
Countess  and  FREDERICA  to  the  King,  in  gratitude.) 

KARL. 
Oh,  rage  and  fury !     (KARL  is  secured  by  TTAKOLD  and 

Corporal.) 

CHORUS. 

Rejoice !  our  loyal  hearts  we  bring 
As  free-will  offerings  to  the  king ! 

SOLO SOPHIA  TO   KING. 

Oh,  let  me  to  thy  ermine  cling 

In  gratitude  (kneels.)  God  bless  the  king  1 

CHORUS. 

God  save  the  king ! 
Long  live  the  king !  &c. 

(The  Workmen  and  Girls  of  the  Factory,  Advocates, 
Officers,  Soldiers,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  Spectators, 
and  all  the  Characters  on  the  stage,  indicate  ly  appro- 


SCENE  IV.]          OR,    WHO'S    THE    TRAITOR?  347 

priate  and  spontaneous  action  the  deep  and  intense 
interest  they  take  in  the  verdict.  —  KARL  gasps  and 
faints,  and  is  supported  l>y  HAROLD  and  Corporal. — • 
WEDGEWOOD  notices  the  tableau  with  great  self -compla- 
cency.—  [The  whole  action  is  simultaneous.'] — KARL 
is  home  off  l>y  HAROLD  and  Corporal.  All  the  Char- 
acters then  turn,  and  by  looks  and  actions  congratulate 
each  other,  and  the  scene  instantly  becomes  one  of  gen- 
eral joy.} 

KING. 

This  court  is  now  dissolved.  (The  principal  Charac- 
ters leave  their  stations  /  and  all  the  Parties,  except  the 
Judges  and  those  in  the  gallery,  come  upon  the  stage. — 
To  the  Judges.)  Your  lordships  must  pardon  all  irregu- 
larities. This  is  the  first  trial  by  Jury  that  ever  took 
place  in  Prussia.  Hereafter,  no  human  power  shall  in- 
terrupt your  grave  deliberations.  (To  Count  LANISKA.) 
Count  Laniska,  I  took  your  sword  from  you  this  morn- 
ing :  I  here  present  you  mine.  (Count  kneels  and  re- 
ceives it} 

COUNT. 

This,  with  my  life,  I  dedicate  to  Your  Majesty's  ser- 
vice! 

KING  (tO  ALBERT.) 

As  for  you,  sir,  the  sword  is  not  your  weapon.  (HAK- 
OLD  advances  with  a  golden  pen  upon  a  velvet  cushion. 


318  THE    MAID    OF    SAXOXT:  [Acr  III 

ALBERT  kneels.)  Receive  this  emblem  of  far  greater 
power  than  all  the  implements  of  war,  and  wield  it  for 
the  benefit  of  mankind.  Rise,  Baron 

ALBERT. 

Mansfield,  Yonr  Majesty — 

KING  (with  surprise!) 
Mansfield  ? 

SOPHIA. 

My  heart  was  not  deceived !     My  long-lost  brother ! 
ALBERT  (ALBERT  and  SOPHIA  rush  into  each  other's  arms.} 
My  dear,  dear  sister ! 

KING  (Booking  at  them.) 

So,  so,  so !  Oh,  what  an  old  fool  I  have  been !  (Look- 
ing around.)  Come  hither,  Sophia.  (She  advances ;  the 
King  takes  her  hand!)  I  owe  you  some  amends  for  your 
long  and  patient  suffering  on  my  account  (taking  the 
Count's  hand) — and  thus  I  make  them.  (SOPHIA  and 
LANISKA  join  hands  joyfully!)  How  well  the  criminals 
understand  each  other !  (Rubbing  his  hands,  and  walk- 
inff  joyfully  about  the  stage.)  Ah,  Mr.  "Wedge wood,  I 
don't  care  if  I  take  a  pinch  of  snuff  out  of  that  same  box 
I  gave  you  the  other  day. 

WEDGEWOOD  (presenting  fiox.) 

Your  Majesty  has  added  to  its  value  a  diamond  worth 
all  the  rest,  in  finding  it  is  large  enough  for  two  of  us. 


SCENE  IV.]          0  II,    WHO'S    Til  K    T  II  A  I  T  0  R  ?  349 

KIKG. 

Good!  (Notices  FKEDEKICA.)  What!  Frederica,  my 
fair  namesake  and  little  god-daughter —  in  the  dumps? 
(Looking  at  ALBERT.)  Oh,  I  understand.  (To  Countess.) 
By  your  leave,  madam.  (Hands  FREDERICA  to  ALBERT.) 
You  perceive,  Mr.  Wedgewood,  that  I  have  a  large  fam- 
ily to  look  after  and  provide  for;  but  I  am  a  happy 
father,  sir — mine  are  good  children,  very  good  children! 
I  wish  I  had  more  like  these. 

WEDGEWOOD  (significantly.} 
If  Your  Majesty  goes  on  in  this  way,  there'll  be  plenty 

more — in  time. 

KING. 

All  are  now  satisfied — at  least  I  hope  all  are  so  here. 
(To  the  audience}  If,  as  a  king,  I  may,  on  another  occa- 
sion, command  an  audience — 

WEDGEWOOD  (forgetting  himself,  lifting  his  mallet  and 
flourishing  it  like  an  auctioneer] — Going !  (Recollect- 
ing himself.) — I  mean  —  (slowly  and  with  gravity)  — 
s-i-1-e-n-c-e  i-n  t-h-e  c-o-u-r-t!  (meaning  the 
audience) 

KING. 

These  witnesses  will,  I  am  sure,  attend  the  next  trial 
of  the  MAID  OF  SAXONY — 

WEDGEWOOD. 

If  it  is  convenient ! 


350  THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY.  [Acr  111. 

FINALE. 

Our  hearts  are  bounding  with  delight ! 

"I is  Freedom's  jubilee! 
For  right  has  triumphed  over  might  — 
The  bond  again  are  free ! 
Hurrah  !  — hurrah ! 

Let  the  welkin  ring ! 
To  Justice  and  Liberty- 
Paeans  we  sing ! 

(Tableau. —  Curtain  falls.) 


* 

END   OF  THE   MAID   OF  SAXONY. 


NOTE  S. 


NOTES, 


Page  17. 

THE    DESERTED    BRIDE. 

THIS  poem  was  written  after  seeing  Miss  FANNY  KEMBLB, 
for  the  first  time,  in  one  scene  of  "  The  Hunchback." 

Page  25. 

THE    CROTON    ODE. 

WRITTEN  at  the  request  of  the  Corporation  of  the  city  of 
New- York,  and  sung  near  the  Park  Fountain,  by  the  members 
of  the  New-York  Sacred  Music  Society,  on  the  completion  of 
the  Croton  Aqueduct,  October  14,  1842. 

Page  35. 

WOODMAN,    SPARE    THAT    TREE ! 

RIDING  out  of  town  a  few  days  since,  in  company  with  a 
friend,  who  was  once  the  expectant  heir  of  the  largest  estate  in 
America,  but  over  whose  worldly  prospects  a  blight  has  recently 


354  NOTES. 

come,  he  invited  me  to  turn  down  a  little  romantic  woodland  pass 
not  far  from  Bloomingdale.  "  Your  object  ?"  inquired  I.  "  Merely 
to  look  once  more  at  an  old  tree  planted  by  my  grandfather,  near 
a  cottage  that  was  once  my  father's." — "The  place  is  yours, 
then  ?"  said  I.  "  No,  my  poor  mother  sold  it ;"  and  I  observed  a 
slight  quiver  of  the  lip,  at  the  recollection  of  that  circumstance. 
"  Dear  mother !"  resumed  my  companion,  "  we  passed  many 
happy,  happy  days,  in  that  old  cottage  ;  but  it  is  nothing  to  me 
now  —  father,  mother,  sisters,  cottage  —  all  are  gone!" — and  a 
paleness  overspread  his  fine  countenance,  and  a  moisture  came 
to  his  eyes,  as  he  spoke.  After  a  moment's  pause,  he  added : 
"  Don't  think  me  foolish.  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  I  never  ride 
out  but  I  turn  down  this  lane  to  look  at  that  old  tree.  I  have  a 
thousand  recollections  about  it,  and  I  always  greet  it  as  a  famil- 
iar and  well-remembered  friend.  In  the  by-gone  summer-time 
it  was  a  friend  indeed.  Under  its  branches  I  often  listened  to 
the  good  counsel  of  my  parents,  and  had  such  gambols  with  my 
sisters !  Its  leaves  are  all  off  now,  so  you  won't  see  it  to  advan- 
tage, for  it  is  a  glorious  old  fellow  in  summer ;  but  I  like  it  full 
as  well  in  winter-time."  These  words  were  scarcely  uttered, 
when  my  companion  cried  out,  "  There  it  is !"  Near  the  tree 
stood  an  old  man,  with  his  coat  off,  sharpening  an  axe.  He  was 
the  occupant  of  the  cottage.  "  What  do  you  intend  doing  ?" 
asked  my  friend  with  great  anxiety.  "  What  is  that  to  you  ?"  was 
the  blunt  reply.  "  You  are  not  going  to  cut  that  tree  down,  sure- 
ly ?" —  "Yes,  but  I  am  though,"  said  the  woodman.  "What 
for  ?"  inquired  my  companion,  almost  choked  with  emotion. 
"  What  for  ?  Why,  because  I  think  proper  to  do  so.  What  for  1 
I  like  that!  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  for.  This  tree  makes  my 
dwelling  unhealthy ;  it  stands  too  near  the  house  ;  prevents  the 


NOTES.  355 

moisture  from  exhaling,  and  renders  us  liable  to  fever-ancl-ague." 
—  "Who  told  you  that?"— "Dr.  S  ***."— "Have  you  any 
other  reason  for  wishing  to  cut  it  down  ?" — "  Yes,  I  am  getting 
old  ;  the  woods  are  a  great  way  off,  and  this  tree  is  of  some 
value  to  me  to  burn."  He  was  soon  convinced,  however,  that 
the  story  about  the  fever-and-ague  was  a  mere  fiction,  for  there 
never  had  been  a  case  of  that  disease  in  the  neighbourhood ; 
and  then  was  asked  what  the  tree  was  worth  for  firewood. 
"  Why,  when  it  is  down,  about  ten  dollars." — "  Suppose  1  make 
you  a  present  of  that  amount,  will  you  let  it  stand  ?" — "  Yes."  — 
"  You  are  sure  of  that  ?"  — ;t  Positive."  —  "  Then  give  me  a  bond 
to  that  effect."  I  drew  it  up ;  it  was  witnessed  by  his  daughter ; 
the  money  was  paid,  and  we  left  the  place  with  an  assurance 
from  the  young  girl,  who  looked  as  smiling  and  beautiful  as  a 
Hebe,  that  the  tree  should  stand  as  long  as  she  lived.  We  re- 
turned to  the  road,  and  pursued  our  ride.  These  circumstances 
made  a  strong  impression  upon  my  mind,  and  furnished  me  with 
materials  for  the  song  I  herewith  send  you. 

EXTRACT  FROM  A  LETTER  TO  HEJ.TBY  RUSSELL,  THE  VOCALIST,  DATED  NEW  YORK,  FES- 
BUARV  1, 1837. 

Page  55. 
THE  CHIEFTAIN'S  DAUGHTER. 

"  EVERV  part  of  the  brief  but  glorious  life  of  POCAHONTAS  is 
calculated  to  produce  a  thrill  of  admiration,  and  to  reflect  the 
highest  honour  on  her  name.  Th«  most  memorable  event  of 
her  life  is  thus  recorded:  After  a  long  consultation  among  the 
Indians,  the  fate  of  Captain  SMITH,  who  was  the  leader  of  the 
first  colony  in  Virginia,  was  decided.  The  conclave  resumed 
their  silent  gravity.  Two  huge  stones  were  placed  near  the 


356  NOTES. 

water's  edge  ;  Smith  was  lashed  to  them,  and  his  head  was  laid 
down,  as  a  preparation  for  beating  out  his  brains  with  war-clubs. 
Powhattan  raised  the  fatal  instrument,  and  the  savage  multitude 
with  their  blood-stained  weapons  stood  near  their  king,  silently 
waiting  the  prisoner's  last  moment.  But  Smith  was  not  des- 
tined thus  to  perish.  Pocahontas,  the  beloved  daughter  of  the 
king,  rushed  forward,  fell  upon  her  knees,  and,  with  tears  and 
entreaties,  prayed  that  the  victim  might  be  spared.  The  royal 
savage  rejected  her  suit,  and  commanded  her  to  leave  Smith  to 
his  fate.  Grown  frantic  at  the  failure  of  her  supplications,  Po- 
cahontas threw  her  arms  about  Smith,  and  laid  her  head  upon 
his,  her  raven  hair  falling  around  his  neck  and  shoulders,  de- 
claring she  would  perish  with  or  save  him.  The  Indians  gasped 
for  breath,  fearing  that  Powhattan  would  slay  his  child  for  taking 
such  a  deep  interest  in  the  fate  of  one  he  considered  his  dead- 
liest foe.  But  human  nature  is  the  same  everywhere  :  the  war- 
club  dropped  from  the  monarch's  hand — his  brow  relaxed — 
his  heart  softened ;  and,  as  he  raised  his  brave  daughter  to  his 
bosom,  and  kissed  her  forehead,  he  reversed  his  decree,  and 
directed  Smith  to  be  set  at  liberty  !  Whether  the  regard  of  this 
glorious  girl  for  Smith  ever  reached  the  feeling  of  love,  is  not 
known.  No  favour  was  ever  expected  in  return.  '  I  ask  noth- 
ing of  Captain  Smith,'  said  she,  in  an  interview  she  afterward 
had  with  him  in  England,  '  in  recompense  for  what  I  have  done, 
but  the  boon  of  living  in  his  memory.'  John  Randolph  was  a 
lineal  descendant  of  this  noble  woman,  and  was  wont  to  pride 
himself  upon  the  honour  of  his  descent.  Pocahontas  died  in 
the  twenty-second  year  of  her  age." — SKETCHES  OF.  VIRGINIA 


NOTES.  357 

Page  61. 
SONG  OF  MARION'S  MEN. 

"  SALLIE  ST.  CLAIR  was  a  beautiful,  dark-eyed  Creole  girl. 
The  whole  treasury  of  her  love  was  lavished  upon  Sergeant 
JASPER,  who,  on  one  occasion,  had  the  good  fortune  to  save  her 
life.  The  prospect  of  their  separation  almost  maddened  her. 
To  sever  her  long,  jetty  ringlets  from  her  exquisite  head — to 
dress  in  male  attire — to  enroll  herself  in  the  corps  to  which  he 
belonged,  and  follow  his  fortunes  in  the  wars,  unknown  to  him 
—  was  a  resolution  no  sooner  conceived  than  taken.  In  the 
camp  she  attracted  no  particular  attention,  except  on  the  night 
before  the  battle,  when  she  was  noticed  bending  over  his  couch, 
like  a  good  and  gentle  spirit,  as  if  listening  to  his  dreams.  The 
camp  was  surprised,  and  a  fierce  conflict  ensued.  The  lovers 
were  side  by  side  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight ;  but,  endeavouring 
to  turn  away  a  lance  aimed  at  the  heart  of  Jasper,  the  poor  girl 
received  it  in  her  own,  and  fell  bleeding  at  his  feet !  After  the 
victory,  her  name  and  sex  were  discovered,  and  there  was  not  a 
dry  eye  in  the  corps  when  Sallie  St.  Clair  was  laid  in  her  grave, 
near  the  river  Santee,  in  a  green,  shady  nook,  that  looked  as  if 
it  had  been  stolen  out  of  Paradise." — TALES  OF  MABION'S  MEN. 

Page  63. 

JANET    MCREA. 

"  WE  seated  ourselves  in  the  shade  of  a  large  pine-tree,  and 
drank  of  a  spring  that  gurgled  beneath  it.  The  Indians  gave  a 
groan,  and  turned  their  faces  from  the  water.  They  would  not 


358  NOTES. 

drink  of  the  spring,  nor  eat  in  the  shade  of  the  tree ;  but  retired 
to  a  ledge  of  rocks  at  no  great  distance.  I  ventured  to  approach 
them  and  inquire  the  cause  of  their  strange  conduct.  One  of 
the  Indians  said,  in  a  deep  and  solemn  tone  :  '  That  place  is  bad 
for  the  red-man  ;  the  blood  of  an  innocent  woman,  not  of  our 
enemies,  rests  upon  that  spot !  —  She  was  there  murdered.  The 
red-man's  word  had  been  pledged  for  her  safety ;  but  the  evil 
spirit  made  him  forget  it.  She  lies  buried  there.  No  one 
avenged  her  murder,  and  the  Great  Spirit  was  angry.  That 
water  will  make  us  more  thirsty,  and  that  shade  will  scorch  us. 
The  stain  of  blood  is  on  our  hands,  and  we  know  not  how  to 
wipe  it  out.  It  still  rests  upon  us,  do  what  we  will.'  I  could 
get  no  more  from  them  ;  they  were  silent,  even  for  Indians.  It 
was  the  death  of  Miss  McREA  they  alluded  to.  She  was  be- 
trothed to  a  young  American  by  the  name  of  Jones,  who  had 
taken  sides  with  the  British,  and  become  a  captain  in  their  ser- 
vice. The  lovers,  however,  had  managed  to  keep  up  a  corre- 
spondence ;  and  he  was  informed,  after  a  battle  in  which  he 
distinguished  himself  for  his  bravery,  that  his  inamorata  was 
concealed  in  a  house  a  few  miles  from  Sandy-Hill.  As  it  was 
dangerous  for  him  to  go  to  her,  he  engaged  a  party  of  confiden- 
tial Indians  to  take  his  horse  to  her  residence  and  bring  her  to 
his  tent  in  safety.  He  urged  her,  in  his  letter,  not  to  hesitate 
a  moment  in  putting  herself  under  their  protection  ;  and  the 
voice  of  a  lover  is  law  to  a  confiding  woman.  They  proceeded 
on  their  journey,  and  stopped  to  rest  under  a  large  pine-tree 
near  a  spring — the  one  at  which  we  drank.  Here  they  were 
met  by  another  party  of  Indians,  also  sent  by  the  impatient  lover, 
when  a  quarrel  arose  about  her  which  terminated  in  her  assas- 
sination. One  of  the  Indians  pulled  the  poor  girl  from  her 


NOTES.  359 

horse  ;  and  another  struck  his  tomahawk  into  her  forehead,  tore 
off  her  scalp,  and  gashed  her  breast !  They  then  covered  her 
body  with  leaves,  and  left  her  under  the  huge  pine-tree.  One 
of  the  Indians  made  her  lover  acquainted  with  the  facts,  and 
another  brought  him  her  scalp.  He  knew  the  long  brown  tres- 
ses of  Miss  McRea,  and,  in  defiance  of  all  danger,  flew  to  the 
spot  to  realize  the  horrid  scene.  He  tore  away  the  thinly- 
spread  leaves  —  clasped  the  still-bleeding  body  in  his  arms,  and, 
wrapping  it  in  his  cloak,  was  about  bearing  it  away,  when  he 
was  prevented  by  his  superior  officers,  who  ordered  the  poor 
girl  to  be  buried  on  the  spot  where  she  had  been  immolated. 
After  this  event  a  curse  seemed  to  rest  upon  the  red-man.  In 
every  battle  their  forces  were  sadly  cut  up — the  Americans 
attacking  them  most  furiously  whenever  they  could  get  an  op- 
portunity. The  prophets  of  the  Indians  had  strange  auguries  ; 
they  saw  constantly  in  the  clouds  the  form  of  the  murdered 
white  woman,  invoking  the  blasts  to  overwhelm  them,  and 
directing  all  the  power  and  fury  of  the  Americans  to  extermi- 
nate every  red-man  of  the  forest  who  had  committed  the  hateful 
deed  of  breaking  his  faith  and  staining  the  tomahawk  with  the 
blood  of  a  woman,  whose  spirit  still  called  for  revenge.  It  was 
agreed  among  the  Indians  in  a  body  to  move  silently  away  ;  and 
by  morning's  light  not  a  red-man  was  to  be  found  near  the 
British  troops.  Captain  Jones,  too,  was  no  more.  In  the  battle 
he  led  on  his  men  with  that  fearlessness  and  fury  that  distressed 
minds  often  do  ;  but  his  men  grew  tired  of  following  him  in  such 
perilous  attacks,  and  began  to  fly.  As  he  returned  to  rally  them 
he  received  a  ball  in  his  back.  Burning  with  shame,  love  and 
frenzy,  he  turned  and  threw  himself  on  the  bayonets  of  the 
enemy,  and  at  once  closed  his  agonies  and  expiated  his  political 


360  NOTES. 

offence.     He  was  laid  by  the  side  of  her  he  had  so  ardently 

loved  and  deeply  lamented."  —  EVENTS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

Page  70. 
They  're  gone  with  my  last  shilling. 

"  THIS  is  a  fact,  and  no  poetic  fable." — BYBOW. 

Page  70. 
Florence's  Saloon. 

A  MUCH-FREQUENTED  restaurant  in  Broadway. 

Page  70. 
Sunny- Side. 
THE  country  residence  of  WASHINGTON  IRTINO. 

Page  71. 
The  luxury  of  wo. 

W-H-O-A  ! 

Page  72. 
A  wheel  rigged  for  a  tiller. 

A  PECDLIARITY  of  Commodore  Christopher  B.  Miller's  yacht, 
"  The  Ultra." 


NOTES.  361 


Page  73. 
Long  live  the  valiant  Mayor  ! 

"  IF  you  want  me,"  said  His  Honour,  at  the  Astor-Place  riots, 
on  the  evening  of  the  10th  of  May,  1849,  "you  will  FINP  ME  — 
at  the  New-York  Hotel .'" 

Page   133. 

THE    PRAIRIE    ON    FIRE. 

THIS  ballad  is  founded,  in  part,  upon  a  thrilling  story  of  the 
West,  related  by  Mr.  COOPER,  the  novelist. 

Page  155. 
THE  SWEEP'S  CAROL. 

WRITTEN  to  be  sung  in  character,  for  the  purpose  of  intro- 
ducing the  wild,  peculiar  and  well-known  cry  or  carol  of  the 
sweeps  of  New-York. 

Page  187. 

THE    FALLEN    BRAVE    OF    MEXICO. 

WRITTEN,  at  the  request  of  the  Corporation  of  the  city  of 
New-York,  for  the  funeral  solemnities  to  Lieutenant-Colonel 
BAXTER,  Captains  BARCLAY  and  PIERSON,  and  Lieutenants 
CHANDLER  and  GALLAGHER,  of  the  New-York  Volunteers,  who 
died  upon  the  battle-fields  of  Mexico.  Sung  by  the  members 
of  the  New-York  Sacred  Music  Society,  on  Wednesday,  the 
12th  day  of  July,  1848,  in  front  of  the  City  Hall. 


362  NOTES. 


Page  191. 

THE    CHAMPIONS    OF    LIBERTY. 

WRITTEN,  at  the  request  of  the  Common  Council  of  the  city 
of  New- York,  for  the  funeral  solemnities  in  honour  of  the  gal- 
lant and  lamented  Major-General  WORTH,  Colonel  DUNCAN,  and 
Major  GATES,  late  of  the  United  States  army.  Sung  by  the 
Sacred  Music  Society  in  the  balcony  in  front  of  the  City  Hall, 
Thursday,  November  15,  1849. 

Page  213. 
THE  SOLDIER'S  WELCOME  HOME. 

SUNG  at  the  New- York  Tabernacle,  on  the  evening  of  April 
18,  1849,  by  Mr.  NASH,  with  a  chorus  of  a  thousand  voices. 

Page  215. 

THE    ORIGIN    OF    YANKEE    DOODLE. 

THIS  jeu  cTesprit  was  written  for  and  sung  by  the  HUTCHIN- 
SON  FAMILY. 

Page  221. 

NEW-YORK    IN    1826. 

THIS  address,  which  has  a  local  interest,  is  republished  at  the 
request  of  several  of  the  author's  friends — one  of  whom  "de- 
sires to  preserve  it  as  one  of  the  curiosities  of  rhyme ;"  and 
another  "  as  a  picture  of  New-York,  and  its  belongings,  a  quar- 
ter of  a  century  ago." 


NOTES.  363 

Page  221. 

STANZA    I. 

"  S.  W."  are  the  initials  of  my  much-lamented  friend,  the  late 
SAMUEL  WOODWORTH,  Esq. 

SJie  whispers  of  coaches, 
And  lockets  and  broaches  — 
refers  to  the  holiday-presents  in  vogue  at  the  time. 

Page  222. 

STANZA    II. 

contains  the  name  of  an  institution  whose  failure  created  great 
consternation  in  Wall-street. 

Page  222. 

STANZA    IV. 

GAS-LIGHT  was  introduced  into  New-York  about  that  period, 
and  the  gas-burners  were  formed  in  the  shapes  here  mentioned. 

Page  223. 

STANZA    V. 

Seats  on  the  Battery. 

AT  the  time  alluded  to  there  were  none  ;  and  there  was  in- 
cessant warfare  between  the  press  and  the  lessees  of  Castle 
Garden,  w^liich  was  finally  settled  by  the  interposition  of  the 
Common  Council,  who  caused  seats  to  be  placed  on  the  Battery 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  public. 


NOTES. 


Page  223. 

STANZA    VI. 

THIS  stanza  contains  the  names  of  the  fashionable  poets  and 
editors  of  the  day. 

Page  223. 

STANZA    VII. 

LAFAYETTE  visited  New-York  during  the  administration  of 
Governor  CLINTON.  The  stanza  also  alludes  to  the  then-recent 
completion  of  the  Erie  Canal,  and  to  the  troubles  in  Greece, 
which  occupied  much  of  the  public  attention. 

Page  224. 

STANZA   VIII. 

THE  Bowery  Theatre  was  built  in  1826. 
Page  225. 

STANZA    X. 

THE  Garcia  troupe  were  then  performing  at  the  Park  Thea- 
tre, and  they  were  the  first  that  produced  Italian  operas  in  this 
country.  The  KEAN  riot  had  recently  occurred. 

Page  225. 

STANZA    XI. 

NAMES  of  the  Museums  and  other  shows,  giants  and  Indians 
being  then  their  principal  attractions. 


X  OTES. 


Page  225. 

STANZA    XII. 

DESCRIPTIVE  of  the  manner  in  which  the  New  Year  was 
ushered  in. 

Page  226. 

STANZA    XIII. 

THE  "  NEW-YORK  MIRROR"  was  one  of  the  earliest  periodi- 
cals devoted  to  American  letters. 

Page  247. 

THE    MAID    OF    SAXONY. 

THIS  Opera  was  first  performed  at  the  Park  Theatre,  on  the 
25th  of  May,  1842,  and  ran  fourteen  successive  nights.  It  was 
entirely  and  completely  successful,  being  nightly  received  with 
cheers. 


THE     END. 


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